The Lion and the Serpent
by Signature F
Summary: Ginny is failing Potions, and even her brother Ron can't help her this time. As usual, Snape is more than eager to cause a Gryffindor like herself misery, and assigns her a tutor that could change her life: GWxDM Rated PG14. Ch 8 is up, Ch 9 coming soon.
1. Snape's Task

**Title:** The Lion and the Serpent  
**Summary:** Ginny is failing Potions, and even her brother Ron can't help her this time. As usual, Snape is eager to cause a Gryffindor like herself discomfort, and assigns her a tutor that could change her life. A story about a Malfoy seducing a Weasley... or perhaps, is it the other way around?  
**Rating:** PG-14 for language and possible sexual reference in later chapters  
**Characters:** Ginny Weasley, Draco Malfoy  
**Disclaimer:** Nothing belongs to me except for this plot... everything else is Rowling's...

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**Chapter 1: Snape's Task**

The new tutoring program at Hogwarts was anything but helpful to Ginny Weasley. Sure, she knew she was failing Potions, and of course, it would help if she got any grade other than a "D", but for Merlin's sake, she wasn't completely inept: she _could_ take care of herself. The only problem seemed to be that she was completely reluctant to spend hours on end in the musty old library looking up Potion's ingredients while the last sunshine of the year shone brightly on the brilliant, grassy grounds outside. Needless to say, the library did nothing to remind her of anything she found even remotely pleasant, and Ginny was not at all cheered by the fact that if she failed her next assignment, Snape was going to assign her a private tutor; and Ginny was sure that whoever the tutor was, they would not help improve her abysmal grades.

This is why the redheaded fifth year sat cooped up in the Gryffindor common room while her fellow students were outside on an overcast but very warm day, soaking up the dwindling warmth from the sun whilst doing their homework outside on the last few days that they could before winter came. Ginny would have given almost anything to be outside with them, not a care in the world, talking and laughing with her friends… except for the fact that human interaction did nothing to improve her performance in essay-writing. So, alas, there she sat beside the empty fireplace, sun streaming in through the window and illuminating her nearly blank piece of parchment, while Ginny herself was seated, watching dust swirl in the sunbeams that spilled onto the dark red carpet, her mind almost as blank as the paper upon which she was supposed to be writing.

"Hey," said a familiar voice behind her. "Shouldn't you be outside?"

Harry walked in through the portrait hole, hair distinctly ruffled from the wind outside; Ginny suspected that it must be the perfect weather conditions for practicing Quidditch. She swallowed an irritated comeback and replied.

"No," Ginny said tonelessly, barely blinking as Harry sat down in the chair beside her. "Everyone outside would be way too distracting, which is not what I need right now." Her sentence ended with unintentional bitterness, which Harry chose to ignore.

"It doesn't look like you're doing much better up here," he pointed out, and Ginny shot him a withering look.

"Thanks so much, Sir-points-out-the-obvious," she said sardonically. "I hadn't noticed."

"Just trying to lighten up the atmosphere a bit," Harry said simply, putting his hands up in self-defense. "Thought you might need a little comedy relief after being up here for so long. It really is a beautiful day, you know."

"Thanks," Ginny said grumpily, resting her chin on the table. "I needed that."

"Don't mention it," Harry said with a chuckle. "Look, when you change your mind, Ron, Hermione and I are all going to be down by the lake, if you want to join us."

"Well, I would," Ginny said, raising her voice to a shout as Harry began to leave and lifting her head up off of the desk. "If a greasy-haired slimeball I could mention hadn't given me such a damn pointless assignment!"

The portrait slammed shut behind Harry as he left, and Ginny's chin smacked down onto the surface of the table again as she let out a frustrated groan and looked down at her so far nonexistent Potions essay. Slowly, tediously, she lifted her head once more from the table and picked up her quill, and began to write.

>> 

It was past midnight when Ginny finally threw down her quill and nearly burst into tears of mingled exhaustion and triumph. The essay was finished – finally – after a full day's work, after she had skipped lunch and taken only a sandwich for dinner, brought up to her by Ron, who took pity on his little sister. "Snape had better give you a good grade," he said, watching as Ginny took a savage bite of sandwich before returning to the heavy reference book she was using. "If only for effort."

"You know that's not going to happen, Ron," she had replied shortly, her tired eyes itching from reading the millimeter-tall print that was dreadfully boring in itself. "Since when has Snape ever given a Gryffindor good grades because of their effort output?" She sighed huffily before taking another enormous bite of sandwich and scanning down the page for any useful information. Knowing that provoking an already over-stressed Ginny was about as safe as running through a field of active land mines, Ron bit back a retort and let his sister continue with her work.

Still, Ginny thought miserably, she knew that Snape would undoubtedly sneer as he graded her essay, marking her errors with exaggerated flourishes of his quill. She knew, of course, that however long she had slaved to write her essay, she was fully aware of the fact that it was probably somewhere in the range of grades that would have appalled Hermione Granger. All the same, the redhead rolled up her parchment, eyelids drooping, and instead of going straight up to bed, let her head fall with a loud thump onto one of her open textbooks, and was asleep almost instantly.

>> 

It would have been nice to say that Ginny awoke to the soft babble of student's voices in the common room, and that she stored her finished essay in her bag and joined Harry, Ron and Hermione for breakfast before traipsing off to the dungeons to hand Snape her two foot essay on the properties, uses, and proper handling of Ashwinder eggs. Instead, Ginny awoke the next morning to a near nightmare.

Once she had lifted her head from the book she had been using as a pillow, she received a shock as she glanced at her watch: breakfast was nearly over, and all of her books and parchment were strewn around her workspace. Cursing her luck, she ran up to the girl's dormitories, and was back moments later with her bag swinging wildly from her shoulder, and crammed her books and parchment inside haphazardly. Snatching up her essay from the table, she was halfway through the portrait hole when she realized that she had forgotten her Potions' textbook on the table in the common room. Her last nerve stretching nearly to the breaking point, Ginny tore back through the common room and, after several moments of frantic searching, seized it from underneath the chair she had fallen asleep in, and raced through the portrait hole again just as the bell signaling the end of breakfast sounded across the castle, meaning that she only had a few short minutes before classes started. Now holding in a scream of frustration, Ginny sped off down the corridor, occasionally taking a hidden shortcut or two and silently thanking her elder twin brothers, Fred and George, for telling her about most of them before they left Hogwarts the previous year.

Even with Fred and George's shortcuts, however, by the time Ginny had reached the Entrance Hall it was nearly empty. Hoping desperately that Snape wouldn't start class early, she turned to run down into the corridor that led to the dungeons, but –

There was a sudden, tremendous ripping noise that issued from the redhead's bag, and before she could whip out her wand and mend it, the bag, which had been full to bursting moments before, finally ripped along one of the side seams, and all of her books and parchment tumbled out onto the floor. Now willing herself not to cry, she hastily grabbed her books and shoved them back inside the bag in an admirable attempt of organization, and muttered "_Reparo_!" but had no time to watch as the bag fixed itself seamlessly. Now completely positive that she was going to be late, Ginny barreled down the corridor, knocking into people as the walls flashed past her, still running full-out when she rounded a corner…

"Weasley!"

Automatically, Ginny looked around wildly for the speaker, and attempted to stop, but instead collided hard with the cold stone wall. Rubbing her sore nose furiously, Ginny turned around to see Snape just outside his classroom, glaring at her with nothing short of loathing and, she was surprised to see, a shadow of a smirk on his face.

"You are late, Weasley," he said softly, eyes glinting unpleasantly in the dim light from a torch burning nearby. "And furthermore, running in the hallways? I think ten points from Gryffindor is in order… in."

He pointed her inside the classroom, and she hurried inside, trying not to look into his face. The door closed with a bang and an echoing silence fell as Ginny took her seat next to her two best friends, Myra Tamerlane and Freda Scott. Both of them dared a glance at her, each with a questioning look in their eyes, but turned abruptly back to look at Snape as he strode to the front of the room, glowering at them all. Even by Snape's standards, however, Ginny could tell that he seemed almost as distracted as he was furious. Curiosity bubbled inside her and Ginny shifted slightly in her seat as Snape's cold, black eyes flickered over her before returning to survey the room in its entirety.

"Today, you will be concocting a Strengthening Solution, a Potion used for invigorating the weak and offering a temporary boost to energy to the drinker. Copy down the instructions –" – he flicked his wand – "– from the board" (words appeared there) "and once you have finished please wait patiently by your cauldron until the end of class, at which point I will give the order for you to fill a sample flask with your potion. Begin."

There was an instant scuffling of tables and chairs being moved followed by the rush of people eager to get the ingredients and begin working; over three year's experience told them that Snape was in a particularly foul mood, and no one wanted to be found somehow victimized by the bad-tempered Potions' professor.

Least of all Ginny.

"Ginny Weasley!" Snape called over the noise, which died down to half its volume instantly, and Ginny instantly felt all eyes turn fleetingly to her before returning to the task at hand. Ignoring Myra and Freda, who were both staring at her as though unable to believe she had gotten on Snape's bad side so quickly, Ginny reluctantly got to her feet and trudged to the front of the room, dully wondering what Snape could possibly want her for. Was it possible that her last in-class assignment been so lousy that he was moving her to a desk at the very front of the room, where he could keep a close watch on her at all times? Ginny's stomach flipped over as she thought this, but despite her feelings that she would immensely despise whatever Snape had to throw at her, walked slowly up to his desk, examining the stack of parchment next to him rather than Snape himself. For a while, neither of them spoke. Finally, Snape broke the silence between them.

"Tell me, Weasley," he said in a soft and deadly voice, and Ginny heard the rustling of papers. "What is this?"

At last, feeling that she could distract her eyes no longer, Ginny looked from the pile of papers on Snape's desk to Snape, who was holding a piece of parchment out to her. A large, black "D" had been scribbled on to the front of it. Ginny swallowed hard before answering.

"My paper on the properties of moonstone," she answered quietly, doing her best to keep her voice steady.

"I am aware of that, Weasley," Snape said in the same deadly soft voice, this time with a bite of irritation in his tone. "Can you tell me what kind of grade seems to have been given for this… _essay_?" His lip curled into a twisted smirk.

"A 'D'," Ginny muttered, once more averting her eyes from the Potions' master.

"Excuse me?"

"A 'D'," Ginny said loudly, causing the people nearby to stare apprehensively at her, then at Snape before returning to their work.

"Precisely," Snape growled, bringing her paper back down to the desk with a snap. "And do you know why, Weasley?" He paused only for a moment before going on anyway. "It is because of your abysmal Potions work in this class. Or," he added, his cruel smirk widening, "perhaps it is because you are as incompetent working outside of this class as you are inside it…"

It took all of the willpower Ginny could muster not to scream at Snape, but she could feel her face growing warm and knew that her hands must be shaking with the effort of keeping quiet. With a great deal of difficultly, she swallowed her scream and managed to stare, expressionlessly, at Snape.

"I do believe," he went on unexpectedly. "That I assigned you a paper on Ashwinder eggs and their proper handling and usage in potions, did I not?"

This time Ginny knew that he was addressing her directly, and did not hesitate before answering, "Yes, Professor", her heartbeat speeding up. Perhaps Snape would allow her to fetch it quickly from her bag, and then she could turn it in, and then maybe, just maybe, she would receive at least an "Acceptable" for her hard work…

"I see now that it was a waste of time," Snape continued, smirk fading to be replaced with an ugly sneer. "You clearly are unable to continue with your current homework performance, seeing as these are the kinds of grades you receive."

Ginny's eyes traveled briefly to her "Dreadful" essay paper, and then back to Snape. Snape, however, had gone quiet, and instead was surveying the students as they added their ingredients to the Strengthening Solutions. In seconds, however, his eyes had returned to her.

"I have just been with the headmaster, Weasley," Snape said in a low voice. Wondering what this had to do with anything, Ginny resisted the urge to ask why.

"The headmaster seems to see fit that you be assigned a private tutor for your future Potion's assignments," Snape said, upper lip curling again as Ginny glared at him, pure hate drilling into his eyes… what wouldn't she give to be able to curse that horrible smirk right off his face, right then and there?

"Are you listening to me, Weasley?" Snape asked in his lowest voice yet. Ginny became aware that a small smile had become lodged on her face, likely as a result of her daydreams of cursing Snape. She wiped it off her face hastily and nodded mutely.

"You will answer to me," Snape said in an extremely icy voice. "As 'professor' or 'sir' while you are in my class. Do you understand, Weasley?"

"Yes… _sir_," Ginny said savagely, and Snape's smirk widened slightly.

"As I was saying," Snape went on in a smooth voice as though nothing had happened. "The headmaster has given me permission to assign you an appropriate tutor to assist you in your Potion's homework. And I believe that I have chosen one that will be suitable for your particular… needs."

"And who's that? _Sir_?" Ginny blurted out, and Snape's smirk widened to its fullest extent.

"Draco Malfoy," he answered silkily, and Ginny's stomach sank through the stone floor as she gaped at Snape in horror. As if having a tutor wasn't punishment enough… did it have to be Draco Malfoy?

"Do not give me that look, Weasley," Snape told her, his normal tone returning to him. "I will not switch tutors for your sake, nor for anyone else's. I expect you to meet with Draco at the library at least twice a week, on the days of your choosing." He smiled horribly. "Anyone who has seen your homework grades will not disagree with me. Now please take your seat."

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**AN:** Hooray! I've finally gotten around to posting my reworked fic... I've decided to keep most of the original _Author's Notes_ and _Disclaimers _at the beginning and end of each chapter, so expect to see some ancient history surfacing in later chapters. 

Keep checking for the next chapter, coming soon!


	2. Reintroduction and Reality

**AN:** Am posting my old reviews down at the bottom (mostly because they make me feel important). Ah, nostalgia...**  
Disclaimer:** Don't own anything but the plot...**  
**

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**Chapter 2: Reintroduction and Reality**

"I – cannot – _believe_ him!" Ginny snarled half an hour later, shoving her things violently back into her bag, seething with rage. "As if I need a tutor! And Draco Malfoy no less!"

"I know," Freda said sympathetically, swinging her own bag over her shoulder. "It's not fair, but it's not like it's the first time either. Since when has Snape ever been fair to anyone from Gryffindor?"

"Yeah," Ginny said angrily, tugging on a lock of her hair somewhat roughly as the three girls left the room. By the end of the period, Ginny had managed to cobble together something that vaguely resembled a Strengthening Solution; she had been distracted, of course, at the prospect of spending two evenings each week interacting with Draco, and as a result her potion was slightly darker in colouration to Myra's bright turquoise concoction; but, she thought, ladling some into a flask and corking it securely, at least it wasn't a sickly green as Freda's had been.

"Still," Myra said, her voice reproving as she scanned Ginny's moonstone essay with a frown. "I can see why he's so upset. You've mislabeled one of the mineral composites for moonstone, I see, and you've put the wrong dose of dragon's weed needed for concocting a Dream Draught…"

She looked up and saw Freda and Ginny staring at her open-mouthed, as though she had quite suddenly sprouted another head. Myra shrugged.

"I mean, sure," she said, rolling up the essay and handing it back to Ginny as they exited the dingy corridor and came out into the brightly lit Entrance Hall. "I suppose looking up _all_ of the mineral composites would be a bit difficult, but honestly, putting the wrong dosage of dragon's weed…"

"Myra," Ginny said shortly, eyes narrowed dangerously. "I've already gone through hell trying to write that thing, so would you very kindly refrain from making me go through all of my mistakes as that slimy git's written them down?"

"Just give it a rest, My," Freda said abruptly as Myra looked to be on the verge of replying. "She's having a bad day." Myra closed her mouth without another sound as they took their regular seats at the Gryffindor table, and silently began piling food onto her plate; Ginny knew that she wouldn't have gone quiet for anyone else, save perhaps Ginny herself. Still, the idea was small consolation for what was yet to come.

"Weasley. Hey, Weasley, turn around."

Ginny swiveled around in her seat and promptly choked on her pumpkin juice. There, standing as plain as day next to the Gryffindor table, was Draco Malfoy. What was more, he was pulling the smuggest face Ginny had ever seen, and it seemed as though he thought that he owned _this_ table as well. Spluttering and gasping for breath, Ginny returned her gaze to Draco after several slaps on the back from Freda.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" she snarled before he could speak. "I thought that was the purpose of me sitting on the opposite side of the hall, wasn't it? So that I don't suffocate when your hair-gel-doused head comes within fifty feet?"

"Temper, Weasley," Draco snapped, but still wore an amused smirk on his face. "I'm your tutor now, remember? You'll have to learn to control those anger issues of yours if you want to pass Potions. Otherwise, I'll report to Professor Snape that you are a direct insubordinate of the tutor program…"

"Who cares," Freda said, joining into the conversation with a rude voice. "Blow it out your arse, you scummy-haired git."

Ginny laughed loudly at this, and although she could tell that Myra thought the joke to be in poor taste, she hid her teeth in her hand and giggled. Several people turned to see what the commotion was about, but Draco glared at them and they hastily turned around. Two small pink patches had appeared on his cheeks, and he sneered in response to their laughter.

"Oh yes, _very_ witty," Draco said derisively, and then focused upon Ginny once more. "I want to see you in the library at six o'clock tomorrow evening, Weasley," he said in a lowered, malicious voice, turning to leave. "And don't you dare be late."

>>

Luckily enough for Ginny, she had not been forced to face Snape again during the following day, but did, dreadfully enough, have plenty of ill fortune on her side to run straight into Draco in the middle of a busy hallway. She fumbled with the stack of notes she had been carrying and dropped them, parchment flying every which way as a gust of wind swept down the corridor from an open window. Hatred boiled inside her as she remembered his taunting smirk as he had stopped to watch, supremely uncaring, as Ginny began to stalk off in the opposite direction, missing her step and tripping directly over Draco's outstretched foot, making her drop the papers all over. As she left, burning with anger, Draco had shouted after her with something like a jeer in his voice, "Tonight at six, Weasley! Don't forget!" but she ignored him as passersby had stared at her tomato-red face, some grinning and muttering to their friends, others making themselves as inconspicuous as possible as she stormed past them.

That had been early that morning, and the unpleasant vision was still present in the back of her mind and kept replaying itself at moments when she least expected it until she was sick of the whole day and ready to collapse onto her bed and forget about every horrible thing that had happened.

Her less-than-cheerful-mood did not improve as she made her way towards the library, and by the time she reached the library doors it felt as though a heavy weight had settled itself in her stomach, making her dread even more the coming study session with Draco. Ginny shuddered at the thought, and wondered dimly what Ron would say if he knew. She had been in such a distressed mood the other day, she had conveniently forgotten to tell him, but now that she stopped to consider it, she didn't know how much longer she would be able to hide it from him: surely even Ron would notice his little sister vanishing twice each week? And if she told him that she was being tutored, Ron would for sure want to know who her tutor was, and then Ginny would be in a fix; what would he say if he knew that she was meeting Draco a couple of nights a week to take extra Potions lessons with him? Actually, the idea was quite enticing, and for a few moments Ginny seriously debated telling him, if only to see the shocked and angry look on his face… but she must resist. Provoking Ron was not a smart move, especially when it might mean that she would ultimately fail Potions, and Snape had told her himself that Draco was her tutor and that was that. So, as the library doors came into view, Ginny decided firmly that she would not tell anyone – especially not Ron – of her evening sessions with Draco Malfoy.

No matter what.

So she found herself walking through the doors and into the library itself, where a muffled, stuffy atmosphere immediately pressed in on her ears and swept over her body. A dim, soft light pierced the many-paned and dusty windows and bathed the room in a yellowish splash of light. However, Ginny could tell that outside on the grounds the sun was beginning to set, meaning that the yellow sunbeams were tinged with thin, pinkish-orange streaks that would grow more and more pronounced by the half-hours, and by half-past seven the faint glow of innumerable many-patterned lamps would light themselves until the library closed at nine.

Ginny walked up to one of the circular tables and sat down quietly into a chair, feeling very much as though she had just approached somebody's deathbed. The library was entirely empty besides her and the librarian, Madame Pince, who was currently busying herself glaring at Ginny from her desk, as though daring her to stand up and pick up one of her precious books. Honestly, Ginny though in annoyance, smiling blandly at Madame Pince, knowing it would incense her, you would think that she had left those Dungbombs in the Transfiguration aisle on purpose the way that the librarian was glowering at her. Of course, she might have been thinking of the time that Ginny had dropped a bag of Stink Pellets under one of the tables and not bothered to pick it up again, meaning that an unsuspecting person had sat down and accidentally stepped on it, causing the entire place to smell like a larger division of the Owlery and resulting in Ginny's three week ban from the library which caused her to fail an important Charms test. Or perhaps it was that time Ginny had put a spell on her diary that magically turned everyone's hair a shockingly electric blue if they tried to read it without her permission; of course, it had been Madame Pince herself who had found the book and, not knowing what it was, had opened it to see which bookcase it belonged in. Although Ginny had been at dinner when it had happened, she still received an eight week ban and hadn't seen the diary since; she suspected that Madame Pince had confiscated it immediately, though by now it had probably been destroyed.

Still, Ginny thought angrily as the librarian looked murderously at her from over the top of a large stack of returned books, she hadn't been all that bad. Admittedly she hadn't brought back every single book that she had ever checked out, but some of the time it hadn't even been her fault. After all, who in their right mind would want to chase after Peeves around seven classrooms, down three corridors, and up two flights of stairs only to be locked out of the boy's bathroom on the fourth floor, and listen to him cackle as he flushed bits of the book down the toilet? Ginny suspected that even Hermione wasn't drastic enough to try to stop him, and Madame Pince had had the nerve the blame _Ginny_ for it, even after she had explained for the umpteenth time (at the top of her voice) that it wasn't her fault and that she couldn't stop Peeves from stealing it in the first place. Nonetheless, she had still received two weeks' worth of detentions for "destroying school property" and "directly insulting the library" with her "absurd lies".

Ginny exhaled sharply and looked down at her watch. It was already ten minutes after six, Draco was nowhere to be seen, and Ginny was getting increasingly irritated by Madame Pince's evil glares. The way her whole face turned pinker when she looked at Ginny and the way her body swelled in aggravation reminded Ginny forcefully of an over-sized and extremely flustered vulture, and she had an itching longing to reach for her wand. It wouldn't really be that bad if she returned the old hag to her natural form, would it? Would sending her back to some barren wasteland in northern Africa to be crowned the Vulture Queen really be considered "wrong"? Ginny was strongly tempted to find out, and was halfway through telling herself that people with half as much sense as she would much rather jump off the Astronomy tower than intentionally get on Madame Pince's bad side when the library door closed with a snap, making the librarian momentarily shift her gaze to glare at the newcomer before her sharp, beady eyes darted back to Ginny, who was also peering through the shelves to get a glimpse at the intruder of the otherwise silent library.

In a flash of white-blonde hair, Draco appeared from behind a bookcase, strutting towards her and looking haughtily at her as if to ask, "And what are _you_ doing in _my_ library?".

"Hello, Weasley," Draco said in a bored voice, sitting down across from her and examining the seam on the cuff of his robes in feigned interest. "So, you made it on time, I see."

"Yeah," Ginny said in a mock cheerful voice. "Whereas it only took you twenty extra minutes to get here. Not that I'm complaining," she added, rolling her eyes and retrieving a book from the depths of her bag, as well as a piece of parchment, a quill, and an ink bottle. "Any excuse to spend less time with you, I assure you, I'm not picky." Draco's eyes glinted malevolently.

"I didn't come to hear you shoot insults at me, Weasel-girl," he said in a low voice, and Ginny cast him a contemptuous look. "Now give me that book and let's see what you know, if anything."

Draco spent most of their time together shooting difficult review questions at her from the book, demanding that she copy them down, as well as the correct answers. Unfortunately for Ginny, she hadn't studied out of that book since last year, and although it was only the fourth week of term, she hadn't bothered much on catching up; hence her appalling Potions' grades.

Finally, at the end of an hour, Draco became so frustrated with her lack of Potions' knowledge that he very nearly shouted at her, telling her quite clearly (and in a carrying voice) that it was completely pointless in trying to teach her anything, which caused Madame Pince to swoop down upon them both, shrieking furiously at them for disrespecting school rules and besmirching the atmosphere with their profane language. So, both now in extremely bad moods, Draco and Ginny gathered their study things together and stored them in their bags before marching stiffly out of the library, Madame Pince glaring at their backs until the door closed with a bang behind them.

"Well," Ginny said finally, keeping her voice in a forced low tone. "That was dead useful. Both you and that Vulture Woman yelling at me in one day for no reason. Some week this is turning out to be."

To her great surprise, however, Draco uttered a harsh, cold laugh before looking over at her, smirking all over his pale face.

"Well, you should be glad of one thing that's definite in your miserable little life, then," he said smoothly as they exited the corridor and found themselves in the Entrance Hall.

"Oh, that's supposed to cheer me up, is it?" Ginny asked tartly, walking backwards so as to keep Draco in her line of sight.

"I didn't say it _would_ cheer you up, did I," he called after her as he began backing into the Slytherin corridor, like her, unwilling to break his stare. "And for your sake, you had better study some more for the Potions' quiz tomorrow…"

Not bothering to ask how he knew about the quiz (because she knew she wouldn't like the answer), Ginny ignored him, and, scowling, made her way up the marble staircase and back towards Gryffindor Tower.

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**AN: **Wooo! Chapter two is up at last! I promise chapter three quickly, as I've nearly got that finished as well as chapter four. 

Anyway, on to the reviews...

**DracoVeritas:** Nice review... and also my first! I'm glad you think I haven't changed the characters too much.  
**Christina:** I hope you like Chapter 2!  
**BBR: **lol thanks!  
**aroka:** Yeah... Ginny/Draco is definitely one of my very favourite pairings.  
**Pamie884:** Wow great comments! Yes everyone seems to think that I nailed Snape's personality perfectly. Did you like Ginny and Draco's little "confrontations?"  
**MaybeIShouldQuit: **Nice review... lol sorry I left you guys with a cliffy at the end of the first chapter.  
**Mystery:** thank you!  
**moony's number 1:** don't worry, I'll definitely write some more for you guys...


	3. Potions' Trouble and Soup

**AN:** Turns out this was a very quick chapter to revise. Hope you like it.**  
Disclaimer:** Still don't own a thing...

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**Chapter 3: Potions' Trouble and Soup**

Ginny woke up on Wednesday morning positively dreading the day ahead of her. Potions was her first subject, and although she had managed to squeeze in an hour's worth of studying the previous night before giving up and retiring to bed, she knew, somehow, that it wouldn't be enough. What was more, half of the quiz was rumoured to be a "practical" test, which likely meant that she would need to brew a potion of some sort in order to pass. Wishing that she could instead roll over and go back to sleep, Ginny dragged herself out of bed and began to dress, a relentless gloom gnawing at her stomach so that she didn't feel hungry in the slightest by the time she reached the Great Hall. Rather than eating her way through a delicious plate of sausages and toast, she tipped a few things onto her plate and poked at them moodily with her fork as she watched Snape eating his own breakfast up at the staff table. Maybe he would suddenly choke on a rasher of beacon and be swept away to the Hospital Wing, Ginny suggested to herself, though without any real conviction. Maybe then the quiz would be rescheduled to next week, although she knew in her heart that she wouldn't waste that valuable time studying…

"Hey," someone said, sitting down next to Ginny, who turned around and saw that it was Freda. "Are you okay? You're scaring me a bit, staring up at the staff table like that…"

"I'm fine," Ginny said in a flat voice, prodding a bit of sausage around her plate. Oh, how she wished she had her cauldron with her, how she'd love to run right up to Snape and drop it right over his great greasy head… with luck she'd give him a concussion, though it was unlikely through that thick skull of his…

"Ginny," Freda said seriously, staring at her best friend with a startlingly straight face. "What's wrong? You're looking at Snape with that same misty expression Myra always gets when she's reading some dreadfully long reference book…"

Suddenly Freda smirked.

"Hang on," she said slowly, grin widening. "You don't _fancy_ Snape, do you?"

Ginny's hand flew to her pocket and was at the point of gripping the handle of her wand when Freda bust out laughing, causing several people to turn and stare.

"I'm kidding," she explained, though she eyed Ginny's pocket apprehensively; her fist was clearly clenched into a ball around her wand. "Still… if it was Snape…" Freda shuddered but grinned playfully before snatching a peach out of a fruit bowl and taking a bite. Ginny glared at her before removing her hand from her pocket; she had let go of her wand.

"That's the most disgusting thing I've ever heard anyone say, and I grew up with six brothers," she snapped, stabbing at her sausages again. Freda rolled her eyes as her grin changed to an exasperated grimace.

"I said I was joking, didn't I? All the same, I can think of at least ten people who would be a better choice than the President of the Hooked-Nosed Git Society."

"I can think of fifty!" Ginny said furiously. "Filch would be a better choice! Hell, just about _anyone_ would be a better choice!"

"What are you getting so worked up about?" Freda asked in a maddeningly steady voice as Ginny fumed beside her. "I'm kidding, all right? Besides, maybe the quiz today won't be so bad."

She shrugged and took another bite out of her peach. Ginny didn't reply and turned back to her mutilated sausages, now feeling almost sick with anxiety (it didn't help to know that everyone knew that she was nervous about the quiz today, either). Risking a glance across the hall, she saw Snape finishing his breakfast and surveying the students with a unifying dislike, occasionally throwing an indulging smirk at the Slytherin table. Automatically, Ginny's eyes strayed over to a large group of Slytherins gathered near the middle of the table, and immediately saw Draco's blonde head amongst them, surrounded, as always he was at mealtimes, by a gaggle of hopeful-looking girls that laughed too loudly at his jokes and sighed dreamily at him when he wasn't looking in their direction. Not wanting to think what Draco would say if she failed her Potions' quiz, she shifted restlessly in her seat and waited anxiously for breakfast to end.

>>

Fifteen uncomfortable minutes later, Ginny found herself walking down the dank, torch-lit corridor that led to the dungeons with Myra and Freda for company, though, at the moment, they were both of them chatting noisily behind her. As uncomfortable as she had felt waiting for breakfast to be over, she now felt even worse as she walked in silence down the loudly echoing corridor, ignoring her friends' attempts to engage in conversation. Finally, as they joined the line of students waiting outside Snape's classroom, Freda walked forward and eyed Ginny beadily.

"What?" Ginny asked, automatically stepping backwards.

"Are you sure you're feeling okay, Ginny?" Freda asked suspiciously. "It's not like you to zone out like that. That's usually what Myra does."

"I don't do it all the time," Myra objected, looking irritated at this throwaway remark. "Besides, Ginny's obviously just been thinking to herself a lot lately, and I think we ought to leave her alone." Ginny smiled at Myra, grateful, but Freda cut in.

"Yeah, well, who says she can't share her thoughts with us," Freda said, turning to look at Myra instead.

"Maybe she doesn't want to share her thoughts right now!" Myra fired back. "Maybe she just wants you to leave her alone, but that's a laugh, as you seldom do…"

"We _are_ her best friends, you know, meaning that we usually spend time together, so excuse me for the petty crime of _hanging out with someone I like_…"

Ginny was too preoccupied with her own heavy misery to pay much more attention to the ensuing argument. It wasn't uncommon for Myra and Freda to bicker like this, but it was rarely concerning anything relevant, so Ginny blocked out their voices and dwelled instead on her own depression that she was positive would increase twofold by the end of the class. Sure enough, she could almost physically feel her spirits drop within her as the door to the classroom swung open, and the class quieted instantly and filed inside.

There were a few scattered mutterings throughout the room, but an instant hush fell as Snape slammed the door shut and strutted to the front of the class. Today, Ginny could see that he looked vaguely pleased about something, and was able to guess what it might concern without too much difficulty as he shot her a filthy smirk before speaking to the room in general.

"Today you will be taking a quiz on the Wolf's Bane Solution, a potion whose scent and taste will confuse and disorient a werewolf in the unlikely event that you come in contact with one. Because there is no cure for a werewolf bite, however, it will only give you enough time to flee to a safe place and seek help. However, as idiotic as some of you undoubtedly are, it is a difficult potion to brew, and therefore you will need to pay close attention to the instructions on the board."

With a wave of his wand, words appeared on the board, and with another wave the store cupboard sprang open. Snape, however, turned back to the class.

"This potion will need to simmer overnight, so while you are adding the ingredients to your cauldrons I would also like you to complete a written test of ten questions, to be handed in at the end of the class." At this he flicked his wand sharply at his desk, where a stack of parchment appeared. "You may begin."

It was a severe understatement to say that the Wolf's Bane Solution was a difficult potion to brew; Snape could hardly have set them a more complicated and frustrating assignment. Wondering angrily whether this was Snape's way testing her, of having her make a fool of herself so that he could give Draco permission to drill her extra-hard during study sessions, Ginny sniffed in annoyance before reading the first line of ingredients up at the board, getting her quill ready to write, and setting to work.

>>

Nearly an hour later, Ginny was sitting before a bubbling cauldron in which her Wolf's Bane Solution was simmering and steaming, and staring down at her half-finished quiz paper, her mind utterly blank. Usually she was quite good at taking written tests (it was the practical ones that bothered her), but either it was the heat of the many burners around the room that was getting to her, or she was simply so bad at Potions that it was affecting her writing ability; it certainly would not have been the first time. Still, as she was unwilling to give Snape another chance to fail her, she scribbled down a few vague answers to the last problems, laid down her quill, and reached across the table to grab her sample flask when quite a few things happened in a quick succession.

As she leaned forward, someone on her left let out a small cry, and she turned just in time to see Myra (who had attempted to stand up) pitch backwards, her robes (which had been trapped under Ginny's chair) jerking out from under the leg of Ginny's chair and causing Ginny to fall hard against the edge of the table. The force of the collision caused her cauldron to wobble dangerously on its stand, before tipping over and dousing the entire tabletop with the yellow-green potion.

The only good thing to be said was that Ginny's burner (as well as the burners around her) was not lit, because as the liquid spread rapidly to her neighbors' work spaces she felt sure that there would have been a fire. Everything that the solution touched immediately gave off a sinister _hissss_ and Myra and Freda, who had been seated on either side of Ginny, hurriedly moved their quills and parchment out of the way. Ginny, however, was too late to reach out and grab her quiz paper, which received the full blast of the potion's effects and had instantly been reduced to a pulpy sludge that smelled faintly of burning rubber. Before any of these horrible things could sink in, however, Ginny heard the swish of a cloak and spun around to find Snape staring at her down his greasy hooked nose. His expression was undecipherable; Ginny was unable to tell to he was going to yell at her or smirk triumphantly.

"Well, well," he said finally, his voice the silkiest and most dangerous that Ginny had ever heard him use. "Another zero for the Weasley girl, which means that you have, once again, managed to produce a useless mess of a potion." Snape's lip curled at last in a cruel smile. "I'm afraid that I will have to add an extra evening study session every week from now on for you, Weasley. Now clean up this pathetic excuse for a potion. Your homework will be an essay on the proper concoction of the Wolf's Bane Solution, including how and why it is used. I want it by next Monday."

"But it wasn't her fault, Professor," said Freda earnestly, and Ginny felt an upsurge of gratitude for her best friend. "I – I kicked the table on accident and it just –"

"I saw everything that happened, Ms. Scott," Snape said icily, and Freda's next words died on her lips and she went quiet. "Ten points from Gryffindor for attempting to sway me with your foolish lies. And Weasley," he added in a still more venomous tone, black eyes drilling into Ginny's skull. "Do try to show up for your study sessions. Should you be absent from one, I am quite sure that Draco will report it to me and I assure you that rule breakers in that field will receive much worse than a detention from me."

>>

By the time Ginny collapsed on her bed that evening, she was more tired than she had ever remembered being. Not only was the quiz in Potions enough to sap most of her energy, but due to an unlucky accident during lunch in which she had attempted to magically secure a ribbon in her hair, she had instead caused the ribbon to ricochet across the hall, off the opposite wall, hit the Hufflepuff table where it upset a platter of drumsticks, and shoot over to the Slytherin table where it landed with an explosive force in a large bowl of soup, causing everyone in the centre of the table to be drenched with bits of chicken and carrots. And that wasn't even the worst part; the soup bowl had, quite unfortunately, been sitting in front of Millicent Bullstrode, a tall, burly, square-jawed girl who had seen the entire thing and, once she had shaken the vegetables from her hair, had chased Ginny out of the hall, who already had a head start once she realized what had happened. As if that hadn't been bad enough, everything had happened right under Dumbledore's nose, who had sent her a message in Herbology later that day, requesting her presence in his office on Friday night.

Ginny's head was spinning by the time she had finished reliving her day in her head that night, and although her body was tired and aching (both from Herbology and running from Millicent), it took a long time for her brain to deactivate and was nearly midnight by the time she slipped into a fitful slumber.

She dreamt that it was already Friday, and that she had missed her evening study session with Draco; Dumbledore, who was disappointed, had banned her from playing Quidditch that weekend, which she had been longing to do for a change of pace… after all, she was one of the new Gryffindor Chasers, and needed to practice regularly, she had argued with Dumbledore, but he turned into Hermione, who began to lecture her on the importance of finishing her homework on time… and then Hermione was taking her to the library, where Draco was waiting for her, his wand out, saying "Maybe I should just show you how the spell works, Weasel… I think green blisters would improve your face…" and he aimed a spell at her: she ducked –

And then Ginny awoke to find herself breathing raggedly, her legs tangled tightly in the bed sheets, and knew, with an aching dread, that she had yet another rough day ahead of her.

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**AN:** More ancient reviews. Whee! 

**moony's number 1:** Lol be patient, the story will turn... "interesting" later on.  
**Phaerie:** wow thank you! lol as of now, "Bravisimo" is a word. don't worry, chapter four is coming soon!  
**Pamie884:** As always, a very complimenting review on character development and intereaction. I'm very glad you're enjoying the story so much!  
**BRR:** Madame Pince's hair stayed blue until Ginny realised that she had read her diary; after she received the ban, Madame Pince threatened to have her expelled if she didn't remove the curse. Needless to say, the librarian's hair was, though rather grudgingly, returned to its proper colouration. Good point though, I was wondering whether or not someone was going to comment on that.  
**Starriecat:** wow you have set the record for the longest review I have yet received! it's good to have a critic who isn't afraid to speak their mind.  
**Katy's crazy maniaco character:** heh yeah it's a little slow in the beginning, but it gets there eventually. by the way, it 'twas an excellent movie.  
**Hana the dragon:** thanks, and don't worry, I just want to give the readers an idea of what's going on in Ginny's life so far to give her an in-depth feel of what her character is like. The pace will pick up in later chapters.  
**Rismonstar:** Yay thanks so much for reviewing! I loved writing Snape and making him someone that Ginny loves to hate. (I'll probably put the other stories up sometime, but I've been busy lately and I had to get this chapter up today.)

Since some of you must have been wondering (and I know you have, because I have incredible mind powers that can see through the Internet), anyone who has been reviewing of late will be added on to either the seventh chapter review list, or the eighth. I haven't got any real plan for how to write the eighth chapter yet, so I may just put the new reviews into chapter seven for a quick fix.


	4. Fraternizing with the Enemy

**Disclaimer: **Don't own anything except the plot.**  
**

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**Chapter 4: Fraternizing with the Enemy**

Ginny spent most of Thursday dreading the evening to come. Every ounce of her that wasn't worrying about the study session with Draco that night was concentrating fiercely on avoiding Draco himself, because Ginny felt sure that Snape would have told him by now of the Potions incident the previous day, and was equally positive that he had every intention of seeking her out and start using Merlin knows what sort of dreadfully long lectures on her to explain (in excruciating details) the unmatched importance of maintaining passing grades in Snape's classes. She also wondered (with a twinge of mild indignity) what sort of horrid lies that Snape had managed to tack on to the story to make Ginny's potion mishap into some sort of juvenile delinquent tall tale to goad Draco into lecturing her even more.

However, she saw no sign of Draco, or of any possible attempt of his to find her and tell her off, even during their breaks. In fact, he seemed to be quite his arrogant, bullying, show-offy self that he usually was to everyone in general, which made Ginny suspect that he may save any tellings-off for when he could criticize her Potions grades at the same time; this seemed more likely, saving a really nice rant until later when she knew she wouldn't be able to stand it.

Time seemed to employ that annoying habit of speeding up when you didn't want it to that day. It felt as though Ginny had only just walked into Transfiguration in the morning and then suddenly found herself in the courtyard for the break period; then as soon as she was taking notes in Charms she had sat down at the dinner table feeling rather fond of the idea of attempting to drown herself in a nearby glass of pumpkin juice.

"You feeling okay, Ginny?" Myra asked her, and Ginny seemed to awaken from her reverie. "You've been pretty out of it for the past few days. Freda says she's caught you staring up at the staff table during meals…" Ginny threw a disgusted look at Freda, who had the decency to look guiltily back at her.

"I'm fine," Ginny replied in a low voice. "I just can't stand the way Snape and Malfoy treat me. And," she added with a dark look over at the Slytherin table, "I don't think tonight is going to be any different."

Okay, so Ginny hadn't been entirely truthful in that statement. Although it was completely true in that she was entirely sick of both Snape and Draco's attitude towards her (Snape was even fouler to her than most of the other Gryffindors she knew, with the possible exception of Harry Potter), she was really bothered by how much they seemed to be working together to piss her off. Really, it was annoying when she just got Snape during classes, and Draco occasionally in the hallways, but it seemed lately that they were really putting forth both their efforts to assure Ginny a year of pure irritating assholery (a word that Ginny herself had invented and used for the sole purpose of describing both Draco and Snape in her most affectionate terms).

_Still,_ she thought glumly as she dragged her feet down the corridor and towards the library as slowly as she dared, _I'm stuck with him anyway… he'd at _least_ better get me past my exams all right, seeing as he's one of Snape's favourite students…_

And Ginny felt the sinking feeling that she had begun to associate with the mention of the O.W.L.s in June of next year. She wondered what it would feel like to thank Draco Malfoy for helping her pass her exams, and immediately resolved to work harder in all of her classes from now on, though she knew it would do nothing to prevent Draco from "helping" her with her schoolwork; if you could even call what he was doing helping.

"More like discouraging," Ginny muttered under her breath as the library doors came into view. Resigning herself to the very worst of Draco's attitude, she opened the door and dragged herself inside.

The usual dusty silence was penetrated by the many whispers of no less than two dozen students, all of them either milling around the many circular tables, murmuring to their neighbors, or lurking behind the very back shelves and doing only Merlin knows what. Avoiding these sections in earnest, Ginny took her seat at the last empty table, her stomach feeling empty although she had just eaten and her mouth going suddenly dry. Ginny sighed, and pushed her chair back, about to go search out a water jug and tumbler, when something behind her grunted slightly and her chair ran into something solid. She whipped around, a full apology already on her lips, when a familiar pointed face met her eyes. Ginny changed track at the speed of light.

"I'm really sor – oh, it's you."

"Nice to see you too, Weasley," Draco said coldly, rubbing his leg where the chair had hit him, and Ginny could tell immediately that he was in some sort of terrible temper. As he sat down across from her, Ginny was sure that she saw a muscle twitch in his cheek; _I didn't even know Slytherins twitched,_ she thought in mild surprise. But then, Draco was a ferret at heart, and she was _positive_ that ferrets twitched. Still it made her wonder whether or not she was reckless enough to chance asking what it was that had his boxers in a bunch this time.

"What the hell are you staring at, Weasley?" Draco asked sharply, and Ginny blinked, only just realizing that she had been staring blankly at Draco for several seconds. She managed to shrug.

"Just thinking," she answered, and hitched a fake, sugary-sweet smile on her face. If Draco was in a bad mood, why not make the best of it?

Draco glared at her suspiciously until Ginny ducked below the table to get her books, face cracking into an evil grin. Maybe her day wasn't ruined after all, she thought as she pulled her Potions book out of her bag and, fixing the annoyingly nice smile back on her face, resurfaced to find Draco tapping his fingers irritably on the tabletop.

"I heard about your 'accident' in Potions the other day," he growled before she could speak. "Honestly, Weasel, that is entirely pathetic, and dirt low even for your already poor standards; even so, I must say I'm rather appalled."

Ginny was stung bitterly, but didn't let it show on her face. Instead, she kept smiling at him, making sure that she had acquired an annoyingly detached expression of dreamy blissfulness that was sure to infuriate the Slytherin. Sure enough, she could almost see his temper rising as his face flushed a dull pink, but he, like her, otherwise refused to let his fury show.

"Professor Snape has asked me to assist you in writing the Wolf's Bane essay, Weasel," Draco went on in an attempt to show that he was not affected by her pleasant expression, though Ginny could see (much to her satisfaction), that he was completely incensed and slightly unnerved by her persisting cheeriness.

"Okay," she replied in a vaguely interested voice that rivaled Luna Lovegood's tone surprisingly well. Draco glared at her, but Ginny didn't flinch and instead let her smile widen slightly as though she found him to be a faintly amusing object on display on a shelf.

"That's it, is it," Draco said, his voice lowered to keep people from overhearing; his voice was shaking with subdued anger. "That's all you have to say? 'Okay'? No sarcastic remarks or insulting jokes?"

"Nope," Ginny answered in an airy voice, allowing her gaze to drift to the bookcase behind him and stare happily at it, causing Draco to turn around suspiciously and then refocus on Ginny.

"You're a strange one, Weasley," he muttered, shaking his head and pulling his Potions book out of his bag. "And you have the most disturbing smile I've ever seen in my entire life."

"The better to perplex you with, Mr. Malfoy," Ginny replied sweetly, earning herself a murderous glare from the already infuriated Slytherin, who looked as though he would like nothing better than to hex her into next week. Draco, however, worked furiously to control himself, and managed to exhale sharply before opening the book and turning to the correct page.

"Page sixteen, Weasley," Draco said sharply, and Ginny pulled her book closer to her seat and slowly flicked through the pages until she found one labeled "Wolf's Bane Solution" and set the book down, returning her attention to Draco, whose lips twitched into a small but ugly sneer. He seemed to be growing even more annoyed by her blankly smiling face with every passing moment. _This is too easy,_ Ginny thought gleefully as Draco turned back to his book, his expression mulish as he began explaining the ingredients and composition, all the time averting his eyes from her face. Ginny, however, was staring down at her book as well, listening to his words but not really understanding them.

"So, Weasel," Draco said, and her head snapped upwards to look at him properly; he was glaring again. "Judging by your vacant expression, I suppose that I can safely say that you haven't been listening to a single word I said, correct?"

"Possibly," Ginny said with an unperturbed expression. "I kept hearing a few disjointed words like 'potion' and 'cauldron', but otherwise, no, I haven't been listening. Perhaps," she added, knowing that she was about to push the limit further than many people had ever thought of. "If you decide to read it not as though it were a dictionary, but as something actually worth spewing with that condescending Slytherin tone of yours."

Draco was angrier than Ginny had ever seen him before, yet she did not flinch, even when he leaned across the table to push his livid face up close to hers.

"I'll make this much clear, then," he said, his voice dripping with venomous fury. "If you do not pass your Potions exam next spring, make no mistake that I will notify Professor Snape, and you will not graduate to your sixth year of Hogwarts. I will not tolerate your making a fool of me during our lessons together. Do I make myself absolutely plain?"

"As plain as a Crumple-Horned Snorkak in a broom cupboard," Ginny replied indifferently, and Draco gave her a look that would have sent a Hungarian Horntail running as fast as possible in the opposite direction; Ginny did not even bat an eyelash.

"Weasley," he said through gritted teeth. "Go fetch me 'An Advanced Dictionary for Potion Brewers' before I am forced to give you a third nose." Ginny cocked an eyebrow at him.

"In case you can't count, Draco," she said coolly, pointing at her face. "I only have one nose."

"You'd better hope you've only got that one when I'm finished with you!" Draco roared, and Ginny rolled her eyes, startled by his outburst, but keeping an attitude of determined coolness even as people turned around to stare at them, looking alarmed.

"Fine," she said lazily, standing up. "One Potions Dictionary for the spoilt little Slytherin Prince coming up. Oh, and Draco," Ginny added, casting him an amused look. "I'd keep your voice down in here if I were you. I don't think Madame Pince will appreciate you yelling in her library."

"Oh damn," he muttered, looking sharply from side to side before jumping to his feet. "Come on."

And without another word he skirted around the table, grabbed Ginny roughly by the hand, and dragged her off down one of the aisles of books, stopped, and flattened his back against the end of the shelf, still gripping her tightly at her wrist.

"Draco Malfoy," Ginny hissed, now feeling furious as well as faintly horrified; what if someone saw them back here? "If you don't let go of me this instant, I'll give you worse than a third nose…"

"Shut up," Draco snarled. "If I hear one more idle threat out of you –"

Ginny almost laughed out loud, and would have if it hadn't been so dangerous right then. So she made idle threats, did she? The thought actually _was_ quite laughable.

"One more word out of you, Malfoy," she said in a dangerously sweet voice, poking him in the chest with her finger. "And I daresay you'll find out _exactly_ how idle my threats are."

He sneered.

"I'd like to see you try."

Before he could blink, Ginny's wand was in her hand and pointed directly at him, and as Ginny breathed the words "Cheeriosa Serpenta" she reasoned that it wasn't at all her fault. Draco _had_ said that he wanted to see her try to hex him, after all, and so according to him he had actually asked her to jinx him. Unluckily enough for Draco, remaining silent would have been a much wiser alternative rather than force Ginny to cast that particular spell on him. As she stepped back from him to admire her work, face splitting in an enormous evil grin, Draco looked down at himself in a kind of shocked horror.

"A cheerleader?" he said hoarsely, plucking at a white skirt with a dark green hem. "You turned me into a _cheerleader_?"

"Yes, it's good, isn't it?" Ginny asked cheerfully, trying not to burst out laughing as Draco examined his outfit in increasing revulsion. Admittedly, she had been trying to grow his hair out so that it could be secured into pigtails with emerald green bows, but she was enjoying the effect as much without the bows as she would have had with them. A large, blocky "S" was fixed on his chest, covered with glittery green sequins and reflecting the dim candlelight with a shiny brilliance among the dark bookshelves. There was a green and silver pompom in one of his hands, which had been magically glued to his new white gloves by Ginny's spell, and large, silvery green earrings gleaming in his earlobes. A thin layer of lip gloss had been smeared onto his lips, and copious amounts of eye makeup and blush had appeared as suddenly as his outfit had, plastered heavily onto his face. Draco stared at Ginny through a face of contorted rage.

"Weasley!" he growled. "Take the spell off me! Now!"

"Now, why would I do that?" Ginny asked, now giggling madly between words, hardly trusting herself to speak. "You look so much better like this, I think…"

"If you don't take the curse away right now –"

"What're you going to do?" Ginny asked, smirking slightly. "Shake your pompom at me? Do some back flips?"

"I'm going to –"

But at that moment, Draco's sentence was cut off, and before he could stop himself, new words spilled out of his mouth, unbidden, apparently, because they could not have been his.

"We will win! We will win! Who's the team that can't be beat? It's Slytherin, it's Slytherin!"

Draco looked utterly appalled, and clapped a hand to his mouth in horror.

"Don't tell me," he whispered. "I've got to _act_ like a cheerleader, too?"

"Yeah," Ginny squeaked, shoving her fist in her mouth to keep herself from giggling too loud. "Until I take the spell off, that is."

"Weasley…"

"Oh, fine," Ginny gasped, side aching from holding in her laughter for so long. "I'll take it off. But I want to see some cartwheels first."

Draco gaped at her, lost for words.

"You're out of your mind!" he said finally, still staring at her in disbelief.

"And you're out of luck," Ginny said stubbornly. "I want to see some cartwheels, or you're stuck like that forever. No one except me can remove the curse, I invented it myself."

"Why you –"

"Draco," she said tensely. "As much as we'd both love to hear another one of your cheerleader chants, I happen to have better ways that I'd rather spend my time. Three cartwheels, please."

Draco swallowed, still furious but now looking slightly exasperated.

"I can't," he mumbled. "I've never done a cartwheel before in my life."

"The curse will help you," Ginny said impatiently. "Now give me three cartwheels or I'm leaving you here over the weekend."

Draco gave her a look of deepest loathing (a look, perhaps, rivaled only by Snape), and spread his arms apart, looking foolish as he did so, and tumbled over sideways. Luckily, the curse had, as Ginny assured him it would, allowed him to do gymnastics that any cheerleader could do, and after he had successfully cartwheeled down an empty aisle, he stormed back to her looking humiliated and angry.

"Now change me back," he snapped, and Ginny shrugged, still grinning, as she uttered the countercurse and returned Draco to his normal school uniform and an even more disgruntled attitude.

"I swear, Weasley," he breathed dangerously, towering over her and glaring. "If you tell anyone what you just did…"

"Of course I won't," Ginny answered, and Draco was taken aback to see her looking exasperatedly at him. "D'you think anyone would believe me even if I told them? I'll tell you what," she added, smirking again and patting the startled Slytherin on the shoulder. "It _is_ a pretty good story… I'll save it for parties, okay? See you, Cheerleader Boy…"

And she walked away, leaving a very stunned Draco behind her, and only allowing herself to burst into a fit of laughter when she was safely out of the library and a good distance away from Madame Pince's deeply disapproving looks. At the same time, she pushed a troubled thought to the back of her mind as she made her way up to Gryffindor tower, her sniggers dying away…

She and Draco hadn't just been _flirting,_ had they?

Ginny shuddered at the thought of what Ron would say… undoubtedly something about "fraternizing with the enemy", as he had shouted about at Hermione in his fourth year when she had gone to the Yule Ball with Viktor Krum. This would be very much worse by in his eyes… what would he say if he found out about the private lessons he was giving Ginny in the evenings after classes? Nothing, Ginny decided firmly, because I'm not going to tell him. What he won't know won't hurt him, I'm sure, and besides, it's never stopped him before…

Still feeling slightly uneasy, Ginny continued to dwell on the matter until she climbed into her four-poster bed, turned over under the blankets, and eventually shut her eyes and fell asleep.

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**AN:** Not much to say, except I apologize for not posting this chapter earlier; I've just finished the last Harry Potter book. (Finally!) More reviews: 

**Rismonstar:** Thanks... believe it or not, I do actually have a plot in mind. Also I will post some of my other fics on here... eventually. Thanks for the review!  
**Hana the dragon:** haha that's okay, I'm random most of the time anyway. Yes I did see Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, and I recommend all the Johnny Depp fans out there to go see it NOW if they haven't already... very funny movie! By the way, I mentioned that I was away at camp at the beginning of the last chapter... don't worry, I didn't forget about you guys.  
**Pamie884:** lol glad you thought the soup scene was funny. I hope you're pleased that Draco made an appearance this chapter!  
**Phaerie:** yeah Ginny tends to have a rough time. more cheese in coming chapters! lol  
**gnat101:** thanks, and glad you like the story!

Chapter five coming soon. :-)


	5. Dumbledore's Meeting

**Disclaimer:** I disclaim all the characters and stuff that isn't mine... i.e. everything except the plot.

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**Chapter 5: Dumbledore's Meeting**

Ginny's recent triumph over Draco caused her to be in a particularly good mood for the rest of the evening, which was clearly worrisome to Myra and Freda and caused them to stare at her with poorly-disguised looks of concern on their faces. When asked why she was so cheerful, however, Ginny she held her tongue and beamed, replying that she was merely having an extraordinarily good day, and left for an early bedtime.

Now that it occurred to her, however, it made her wonder why she was keeping her word and not telling anyone (even her very closest friends) about the Cheerleading Curse she had briefly cast upon Draco. She felt no desire to protect his dignity, she knew, but at the same time she couldn't seem to find the necessary words to report the embarrassing stunt. Perhaps Ginny had managed to talk herself into what she had told Draco himself, that nobody would believe her even if she told them (though this was a laugh, seeing as most everyone knew that she was more than capable of casting such a spell)…

"It's nothing," she told herself firmly as she climbed into bed. "It must be that I'm more tired than I thought, and can't bother myself with reliving such a priceless memory."

However, Ginny didn't see so much as the hem of Draco's cloak snapping out of sight during the next day; not that she was much looking for him. Actually, she was quite relieved that he had avoided tailing her to serve as a constant reminder of their study sessions together, and after a while she managed to forget about him almost entirely. Instead she focused on something that troubled her even more: Potions. It would be her first meeting with Snape since the disaster that had taken place the previous class where both her potion and test had been destroyed, something which made her dread the approaching lesson even more.

So she found herself walking with Myra and Freda, talking and wondering aloud how Snape was likely to treat Ginny; they all agreed grimly that he was likely to be even more unpleasant than usual. However, when the classroom door swung open and they filed inside the room with the rest of their classmates, Snape barely seemed to notice them; in fact, he barely blinked in their direction as he began to instruct the class on the potion they were supposed to be working on, but Ginny was barely listening to him. She was too intent on staring at Snape himself, who seemed to be actively preventing his eyes from straying to her table and therefore could not meet her unwavering stare.

Ginny was too focused on Snape's strange behaviour to notice much else, and watched him closely the entire class period. Not once, even for a fraction of a second, did they dare drift over to Ginny's face, which she found extremely suspicious. Either he was still furious about her blunder the other day, or he had found something else to hate her for; whichever was the case, he appeared to be taking a different route in his "I hate Ginny Weasley" scheme by ignoring her altogether, which perplexed Ginny to no end. Surely humiliating her in front of the entire class was far more satisfying than sweetly ignoring her very existence? she thought with a frown as she watched Snape bend over a stack of papers at his desk, a long, black raven-feather quill in his hand.

"Er, Ginny?" Freda asked uncertainly. "You're staring at Snape _again_?"

"It's not my fault," Ginny said impatiently, still keeping a close eye on the Potions Master as she absentmindedly dumped the ingredients into her cauldron. Myra grabbed her wrist to prevent her adding the wrong ingredient.

"Then whose fault is it?" Myra asked her. "That's the third time you've tried to add powdered dragon claw, you know."

"Yeah," Ginny said absently, though she was hardly paying attention to what she was agreeing to. Snape still hadn't moved from his desk, and class was nearly over. He would have to move at some point, wouldn't he? Surely he couldn't resist making his usual scornful remarks about half the class' potions, and maybe then, Ginny could catch his eye…

Ginny stopped, thoroughly startled at her own thoughts. Catch Snape's attention? On _purpose_? A Gryffindor deliberately attempting to disrupt one of Snape's classes, whatever the reason, would be slightly safer in jumping off a broomstick fifty feet in the air and hoping to live: a fact that every student in the castle was all too aware of. If she wanted to find out why Snape was ignoring Ginny as completely as though, for all intents and purposes, she did not and had never existed, then she would have to do it without gaining his attention.

For now, however, Ginny's topmost priority was keeping herself under control during her session with Draco that night, which was, to her mild surprise, unbelievably easy. Draco paid her no more mind than Snape had earlier that day, and, suspecting that the two of them may have gotten themselves seriously Confunded somehow, Ginny merely bent lower over her essay on the twelve uses of dragon's blood, though when her mind wasn't hanging over Draco and Snape, it was straying to eight o'clock that night when she would find herself in Dumbledore's office.

However, time crept by painfully slow, even by library standards, even considering that the library clocks were at least five minutes slower than every other clock in the school. Finally, at a quarter till eight, Ginny glared at the clock and set her quill down with a sharp clack. Noticing that the sound of a busily scratching quill was now absent from the dusty silence of the library, Draco looked over at her.

"You're done?" he grunted in a most un-Draco like fashion, and Ginny shrugged and gave him a cold look before packing her things away in her book bag.

"Quite unlike yourself," Ginny said irritably. "_I've_ got a life outside of tormenting and being tormented by other people. Plus I've got a meeting with Dumbledore, so if you'll excuse me…"

"So you're not done," Draco finished for her, his voice suddenly cool. "Fine, Weasley. I want that paper done by its due date next Monday, and after Professor Snape has given you a grade on it I want to see it for myself."

"So you're saying that I'm going to fail?" Ginny burst out angrily. "When I haven't even finished the damn thing yet?"

"It wouldn't be the first time," Draco replied viciously, and before Ginny could utter another retort, he slung his bag over his shoulder and strutted out of the library, leaving Ginny more confused than ever before.

It must be his hormones, she thought savagely as she shouldered her own bag and marched out of the library, ignoring Madame Pince's furious glares. A sort of violent male PMS, she thought, annoyed, that only affected those men who were already intolerable gits as it was.

"Or maybe he just needs a good kick in the arse," she added out loud in a dry voice as she made her way down the corridor until she reached a large and very ugly stone gargoyle that Ginny knew guarded the secret entrance to Dumbledore's office.

"Sherbert balls," Ginny said tonelessly, and the gargoyle immediately sprang to life and leapt aside to reveal a secret passageway where a spiral staircase moved gradually upwards. Ginny had only been to Dumbledore's office one other time in her years at Hogwarts, and that had been when her father, Mr. Weasley, had been attacked by a giant snake possessed by Lord Voldemort. Then, Dumbledore had helped her, her brothers and Harry to escape right under Delores Umbridge's nose to Number 12, Grimmauld Place, where they had waited to hear news of Mr. Weasley's fate. Now, however, Ginny knew that a different kind of ill-boding surprise was waiting for her in that office. Worry writhing in her stomach like a live snake, she stepped onto the bottom stair and rode it slowly around and around until it reached the top where a giant wooden door stood before her. Ginny hesitated, and then walked forward and knocked.

"Please come in," a serene voice said from beyond the door. Ginny grabbed the large doorknob and twisted it; it clicked and the door slid open smoothly.

"Why, hello, Ginny," Dumbledore said pleasantly. He did not look angry, or annoyed, or otherwise upset with her. "How splendid it is to see you. Please do come in and sit down."

Though she knew it had been a request, Ginny shuffled inside and closed the door behind her before walking quickly over to a chair in front of Dumbledore's desk and seating herself in it. His office had changed little, if at all since her last visit. There were still a number of odd trinkets and strange silver devices that sat upon their spindly stools and tables, whirring, clicking, and humming in a calming manner. The portraits that hung on the walls were all snoozing unconvincingly with their heads against their frames, and Ginny was sure that she saw one or two of them sneak glances at her from behind fluttering eyelids.

"You know why you are here, I think?" Dumbledore asked calmly, interrupting her thoughts. His voice was not accusatory, but Ginny still felt as though he was interrogating her.

"Um… yes, sir," Ginny mumbled, staring at her knees. "Because I made the soup at the Slytherin table explode in Bullstrode's face with that ribbon. But honestly, Professor," she protested suddenly, looking up into Dumbledore's face. "It was an accident, I swear it was." His light blue eyes did not falter in their persistent gaze. Ginny fell silent.

"Quite understandable," Dumbledore said at last, setting his elbows on the surface of his desk and letting the tips of his long fingers touch each other, still never breaking his gaze. A wave of relief swept through Ginny, and she leaned back in her chair as the fear of punishment subsided.

"I know that magic can be difficult to control, not only for the young, but for wizards and witches of all ages. I do not pretend to be a master of all spells and curses." Dumbledore's moon-bright eyes surveyed her closely. "That is part of why you are here."

"_Part_ of – Professor, d'you mean to say that I'm not really here for covering Millicent Bullstrode in bits of vegetables?" Ginny asked, sitting upright again, unable to guess why else Dumbledore would have called her to his office.

"Accidentally, I mean," she added hastily, and then, remembering her manners, "sir."

"Well, I think that I will not deny the fact that you were in the Great Hall at the time that Miss Bullstrode came into close encounters with that day's Cream of Carrot soup, nor that you happened to be the cause of the mild disruption," Dumbledore said plainly, examining Ginny over the tips of his fingers: he did not look angry, but Ginny still felt apprehensive. "But the incident concerning Miss Bullstrode is not the entire reason that I have requested your presence here with me this evening."

"I – so – you mean – oh," Ginny said, still confused, but then continued when Dumbledore did not speak. "So, there was something else you wanted to talk to me about? Professor?"

"Yes, and it is something that I have been wishing to speak to you about for some days now," Dumbledore replied quietly, and then fell silent again. The only sound that penetrated the tranquil atmosphere was a phoenix that sat on its perch next to Dumbledore's desk; it crooned softly as it preened its feathers, an oddly relaxing sound that made Ginny sink back in her seat once again, her tension ebbing away. When at last she was about to ask Dumbledore what she had been summoned for, Dumbledore blinked and smiled at her.

"I apologize," Dumbledore said mildly. "I feel that it is one of those times where I have too many things to think about at once." And he took out his wand and put it to his temple, where a thin thread of silvery substance formed as he took the wand away. It broke and dangled from the wand tip, looking like a strange sort of liquid, and Dumbledore pulled out a small glass bottle, and stored it inside. The silver liquid – at least, it seemed to be a liquid, though Ginny could not be certain – swirled like mist inside the tiny bottle, its sheen reminding her slightly of unicorn's blood.

"Er… Professor?" Ginny asked timidly, not wanting to sound rude but beginning to feel slightly impatient. "The thing you wanted to see me about?"

"Ah, yes," Dumbledore said delicately. "Of course." He settled himself in his chair and stared once more at Ginny. "I have heard from Professor Snape that you have received a tutor in Potions lessons." Ginny's stomach sank straight through the floor. She could not believe that Dumbledore wanted to talk about something like this.

"Well, you heard right," Ginny muttered mulishly before she could stop herself.

"Please do not interrupt me, Ginny," Dumbledore told her softly, and Ginny went fell immediately silent as Dumbledore continued. "Professor Snape has also alerted me to the fact that your tutor has been, and will be for the rest of the school year, Draco Malfoy." Ginny refrained from speaking out again, and instead only nodded. Dumbledore watched her carefully, and then gave a small sigh.

"I see it is indeed true," he remarked. "Please tell me, how long has he been tutoring you?"

"All week," Ginny answered quickly. "Since Monday, anyway." And then, unable to hold it in any longer, "But why does he have to be my tutor? Why not anyone else, sir?"

"I believe Professor Snape has already given you that answer," Dumbledore said simply. "It is because he is an extremely achieved Potion-brewer, and I think that Severus could hardly have made a better choice of persons to assist in educating you in that field."

Ginny stared at him. Did that mean that Dumbledore _agreed_ with Snape for setting such a torturous tutor upon her? The hope that Dumbledore might somehow be able to switch tutors for her shrank inside her like a balloon slowly deflating.

"But I see now," Dumbledore went on, his voice sounding heavier. "that you are not pleased with this selection. I am afraid, however, that the power of exchanging your tutor for another one lies with the professor who teaches the subject; in this case, Professor Snape has that power. And he has already informed me that he will not give you another tutor this year.

"I must warn you, however," Dumbledore continued, despite Ginny's apparent expression of utter defeat. "That Draco Malfoy is not one to underestimate. You know what sort of family he comes from, I believe?"

"Yeah," Ginny answered slowly. "He's pureblood, his whole family's pureblood, but I don't see how –"

"I will take you straight to my point, then," Dumbledore said. "My point is that while your blood may still be pure, your family saw the Lord Voldemort and the Dark Arts as something treacherous and horrific, which, in our eyes, it is. The Malfoys, however, along with many other pureblood wizarding families, have long stood by the belief that Voldemort is quite justified in attempting to destroy blood traitors, Muggle-borns, and Muggles. I therefore ask you to employ caution when dealing with Draco Malfoy, or any Malfoy, for that matter: though he has no reason to harm you at this school, let alone under my nose, evil forces beyond his knowledge or control would undoubtedly appeal to him, given what he has been taught his entire life by his mother and father. Please remember: do not underestimate Draco Malfoy, however secure you may find yourself in his presence."

Ginny stared at Dumbledore, lost for words. Could he be suggesting that she would ever find herself at ease around that Slytherin scum? The thought of ever becoming that accustomed to, or even (though she suppressed a shudder at the thought) fond of Draco's companionship was something so repulsive and unappealing, Ginny felt a sudden desire to scrub hard at the insides of her mind, feeling very much as though she would rather drown herself in Bubotuber Pus than find herself in friendly company with Draco Malfoy.

"I understand, of course," Dumbledore continued, inclining his head slightly. "That harbouring thoughts of friendship towards Mr. Malfoy may be more than anyone can ask from you." Ginny privately agreed wholeheartedly, but kept quiet as Dumbledore spoke again. "But I must urge you to use caution from now on whenever you should come in contact with Draco Malfoy: I have heard, from sources that I will not reveal, that he has taken to avoiding you recently at all costs. Please realize that, if at one point you attain mutual feelings of familiarity for each other, that it may result in more damage than you could now imagine."

"O – okay, Professor," Ginny said, her voice shaky and not quite her own. _The only mutual feelings _we'd_ ever share is powerful dislike, anyway..._ "Well… if that's all, then, Professor…"

"Yes, that is all I have to say for now," Dumbledore said, smiling kindly at her. "Please remember my words, however: Do not underestimate Draco Malfoy."

"I – I won't," Ginny promised. "Well… good night, then."

"Good night," Dumbledore returned pleasantly, and Ginny stood up promptly and walked quickly from of the room, only breaking into a run when she was ten feet away from the ugly stone gargoyle, and didn't stop until she collapsed in an armchair in the Gryffindor Common Room, still replaying Dumbledore's last few words over in her head.

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**AN:** I sort of winced as I rewrote this chapter. There were so many awkward things that I had to write over and change, and some things I deleted altogether. It's just... my God. It was weird. Whew.

Anyway, I digress. Reviews:

** Phaerie:** Hehe yeah I've been dying to do something like a Cheerleading Curse to Draco for a while. It adds... umm _texture _to the story.lol  
**Pamie884:** Lol yeah chapter three is one of the funniest chapters I've ever written in my whole fanfiction history. (that's a lot of history, by the way.) I even had trouble not laughing out loud, and I had to grin instead. It made my parents wonder...  
**Fire Red Phoenix:** glad you think it's interesting then  
**louey31:** well I'm happy you like, hope you enjoyed this chapter.  
**WriterOfDragons:** Yeah I'm beginning to think I over-exaggerated there. Glad you liked the cheerleader scene tho, everyone seems to have enjoy that part a lot.


	6. Consultations and Catfights

**Disclaimer:** I hope you all know by now that I'm not trying to be a rip-off artist of some sort.

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**Chapter Six: Consultations and Catfights**

Ginny was still slightly shaken from her conference with Dumbledore even after a week had passed and it was Saturday again, which meant that the shiver that raced down her spine was unrelated to the chilly breeze that brushed against her face as she crossed to the frosty, grayish grounds.

Now that she considered it, curiously enough, Ginny wasn't entirely sure why she was trekking all the way out to Hagrid's cabin, even if it was only to engage Hagrid in a conversation that she needed solely to distract herself from the events of the previous week. Perhaps, she thought, it was because Draco was still doing his best to completely ignore her (other than when he was tutoring her, and even then he still wasn't as infuriating as he had been when they had first began), or that Snape had returned to pursuing his habits of treating her as horribly as ever in his classes; not only this, but he seemed to be enjoying singling her out for ridicule more than ever, both during and after class. In fact, just that Monday, as the bell rang and Ginny was ready to jump to her feet and shout "Halleluiah!", Snape had given her a cruel smirk and added, in a poisonous tone, that she was to stay behind after the rest of the class had left to clean up a spilled potion mess over at one of the Slytherin tables. She glared in appalled fury at Snape before shooting a glance at the culprit Slytherin, and saw, grinning stupidly at her from across the room, Goyle was sitting before a table into which a sickly blue stain was seeping into the wood, melting it as effectively as acid. Before she could stop herself, she had muttered "Greasy-haired slimeball. It'd do us all good if someone gave him a good shag." And to her unrelenting misfortune, Snape had just walked past her desk and naturally her ill-timed comment was overheard. On top of cleaning up Goyle's potion mess, he gave her a week of detention, the last day of which she had just served the previous day. Unfortunately, her punishment had been to clean up the dungeon after every student had left, and, seeing that all the Slytherins in her class made their work spaces as messy as possible before leaving, and that Snape flat-out refused to give her a hall pass, it meant that she was always at least fifteen minutes late to her next class.

And now… now she just wanted to completely forget about the last two painful weeks and talk to someone who hadn't been present during, heard about, or been responsible for, anything and everything that had happened to her recently, and who certainly didn't know (and wouldn't care) that she had been assigned such a worthless tutor, who was irksome at best and who now was refusing to pay her even a cruel remark as they passed in the hallways.

Had she had her homework load under control, she might have enjoyed the day practicing for the upcoming Quidditch season; she knew she should be out on the pitch for training, especially since the first match would be near the end of October (it was halfway through the month already), but the nagging thought of an unfinished Potions paper and a half-filled in Astronomy chart confined her to a quick visit with the gamekeeper before gathering up her things and retreating inside to the library; one of the last places she'd like to be on a cool October afternoon, but since she was alone she would at least be spared the uncomfortable silence that usually prevailed during her tutoring sessions.

"Hagrid," she called, finally reaching the front door of Hagrid's cabin and pounding loudly on the door. "Hagrid! Open up, it's me, Ginny Weasley!"

There was no answer, which Ginny thought was odd. She had sent Hagrid an owl yesterday evening telling him that she'd be by for tea; but then, where was he? Losing her patience at the resolute silence, Ginny knocked harder.

"Hagrid!" she shouted. "HAGRID!"

"There's no need ter shout, I can hear yeh just fine!"

Ginny whipped around in time to see Hagrid emerging from the Forbidden Forest, and her brow furrowed as he stumped towards her.

"Hi, Hagrid," she said, hastily backing away as Hagrid opened the front door and walked inside. "Why were you in the Forbidden Forest?"

"It's fer me next class," Hagrid replied, his eyes glinting like black jewels as he turned to look at her, and then, noticing the look on her face, added in a sterner voice, "Can' say what they are, mind, it'd spoil th' surprise…"

"Oh," Ginny said, entering the cabin after Hagrid and sitting in a rough wooden chair that was one of several pushed against a scrubby-looking kitchen table. Someone who had only experienced one of Hagrid's more eventful lessons might have been unable to hide an anxious grimace, but Ginny could only hope that, whatever it was that Hagrid was saving for the next lesson, she would not have to come into much contact with it for the rest of the school year, and remained silent as Hagrid began to make tea. As he set down a giant-sized mug before her, however, a series of loud raps made the door rattle slightly in its hinges, and Ginny craned her neck around to squint out of the dirty window as Hagrid went to answer the door. A second before he turned the handle, Ginny felt her stomach squirm unpleasantly as she realized who was standing outside; Harry, Hermione, and the person she wanted the least to do with at the moment (except, perhaps, for Snape): Ron Weasley. Unwilling to face him, and eager to put as much time between then and the time she had to speak to him she waited until Hagrid had greeted his new guests and invited them inside before taking a giant gulp of tea and staring fixedly into the depths of her mug. Barely a moment later, she heard her brother's voice say her name in a blank, vaguely surprised tone.

"Ginny!" he said, stopping in the doorway and forcing Harry and Hermione to push their way past him to enter the cabin. "I didn't know you were here!"

"Why, trying to avoid me now, are you?" Ginny asked tartly, and then continued in the same sour tone. "Well, it just so happens, Ronald, that I have the same right as you do to come visit a friend on a Saturday morning."

"I know that," Ron snapped, ears reddening slightly as he lowered himself into a chair next to her; Harry and Hermione had been sitting and were now watching Ginny and Ron argue, looking faintly interested as Hagrid continued to busy himself with the kettle, clearly pretending not to hear. "But I thought you had homework to do. Don't tell me you've finished it already?"

"And what if I haven't?" Ginny asked defiantly, raising her voice in indignity. "And since when do you berate me about homework, Ron? I notice that your grades are hardly up to scratch as it is, and hardly your place to tell me how I spend my weekends."

"Excuse me, Ginny," Ron said, becoming louder himself, but at that moment Hermione exhaled in a loud, huffy sigh, plainly annoyed.

"Can't you both stop it?" she said, sounding tired. "It's a Saturday, for heaven's sake! And Ginny, if you've come down here to ignore Ron, or your homework, or both, you can right ahead, because Ron shouldn't be bothering you with it, anyway. It's none of his business." At this, she raised her eyebrows and looked pointedly at Ron, who looked for a moment as though he were about to say something unpleasant to her but then thought better of it, shrugged, and relaxed back in his seat as Hagrid served them their tea. As Hagrid turned back around, however, Ginny distinctly heard him mutter the word "careless" under his breath, and she immediately fired up again.

"'Careless', am I?" she asked heatedly. "Well, Ron, you for one certainly wouldn't like you've got the balls to say something like that to me, especially when you're not even earning a whole letter grade above me in most subjects, least of all Potions." As quickly as Ginny had flared up, Ron's eyes had narrowed to a remarkable resemblance to Draco Malfoy, and both were on their feet without any memory of getting there. Now even Hagrid had turned around, his eyes alternating between Ron and Ginny and looking anxious, with several empty mugs in his hands, but those remained, for the moment, completely forgotten.

"Well your Potions grade isn't exactly something you'd want to write home about, either, Ginevra," he said angrily, and Ginny glared at him in fury and disbelief. Since when did Ron have permission to go through her papers to find her grades, especially without her knowledge? And he definitely had no business in preaching to her about it on a Saturday, of all days, and in Hagrid's cabin no less; never mind the fact that, since he had last bothered to check, her scores had improved by nearly one hundred points (which is saying something, considering the fact that McGonagall and Snape were the only teachers who rarely, if ever, gave out extra credit assignments).

And, above of, no one ever called her Ginevra.

Still on her feet, Ginny's glare changed from hell-bent to icy in the flicker of a heartbeat. She flushed an almost undetectable pink, but to her it seemed as though her cheeks were burning despite her cold stare, and Ron visibly flinched but refused to back away. So, he wanted to take it the hard way, eh? She almost pitied him.

"You know what, Ron," Ginny said, breathing deeply through her nostrils. "I really wish you'd listen to Hermione sometimes. It'd be quite a lot more easy on you, as I'm sure you'll realize someday; then again, maybe not." And then, before anyone could speak, or even draw breath, Ginny's wand was out and the words left her lips in a barely comprehensible shout:

"_Bogius Wingardius_!"

In an instant, and before any of them (except for Ginny, of course) had realized what had happened, or what she had even done, there was the sound of flapping wings, and not a second later the little cottage was full of giant, green, flying bogies, which dive-bombed Ron repeatedly, sticking wetly to his face and hair. By the time the three of them and Hagrid had come to their senses, however, the cabin door had already been shut, and Ginny was already marching furiously back up to the castle, her hands shaking but still grasping her wand tightly, and refusing to let herself have a last backwards glance at the cabin.

By the time she was halfway up the stairs of the Entrance Hall, however, at which point her breath was coming in deep breaths and her hands had stopped shaking (to some degree), she realized that she had just doomed herself to the rest of the day in the library: after all, it was the single place that Ron would never think to look, and the last place he wanted to be in on the weekend, and her Potions paper and Astronomy chart were already weighing heavily on her mind as it was. So, her heart hollow, and hoping that she could get to the library without Ron or any of the others catching her up, Ginny flounced up to the dormitories to fetch her things, and then hurried herself to the library, and to her relief met no one on the way. A pit forming in her stomach, she opened the creaky door to the library as quietly as she could, and edged inside, feeling very much as though she had just entered a well-lit mausoleum full of books and shelves.

The feeling of gloom and stuffy silence vanished rapidly, however, as she heard the scuff of footsteps on the dusty carpet, and Ginny instinctively ducked behind a bookcase only a moment before Madam Pince stuck her furious, bird-like face around the corner, apparently intent on seeking out trouble-makers; and as she crept away into the gloom of the library, Ginny thought that she seemed awfully keen on catching wrong-doers today. It wasn't usually like her to seek out random victims without reason (unless she was already in a particularly foul mood), something which Ginny pondered at as she made her way, quietly, to the back of the room, eager to put as much distance between herself and the irritated librarian as physically possible whilst still remaining in the in the library. She wasn't even sure why the old bat was so brassed off, today of all days, but Ginny had experienced the batty woman's mood swings enough to know that it was not a good idea to even _look_ at her funny today, and so she doubled her speed, still moving as stealthily as possible, and soon she had left the front of the library quite a ways behind her. Ginny allowed herself to relax and catch her breath slightly, and was just beginning to wonder whether Madam Pince was in a foul enough mood to throw her out if she tried to pick out a book, when suddenly she held her breath again, listening intently.

There was a small, shuffling noise issuing from somewhere close by, and Ginny could tell that it was not the sound of the old librarian's shoes shuffling across the carpet; as suddenly as it had started, however, it had stopped, and was replaced by low whispers. Ginny listened hard, but couldn't make out what the speakers were saying; she could tell, however, that there were two very different people, each talking in low voices, and they seemed quite anxious in not being overheard. In fact, she could hear them stop speaking every minute or so, and she suspected that they were listening for the approaching footsteps of an annoyed Madam Pince; Ginny felt a small amount compassion for them, because Merlin knew how many times _she_ had tried to get away from the crazy old bat when she was in a temper; it was not easy.

Her curiosity was growing as she continued to listen to the whispers of the two people, and she at last realized that it was a boy and girl speaking. She knew that it was not a good idea to be caught eavesdropping, but at the same time, the subject of the whispers proved too interesting for her to simply ignore; Ginny slowly inched out from behind the bookcase and crept silently down the aisle, her curiosity growing as she came ever closer to the sound of the whispers. She was at the other end of the bookcase now, and about a foot from where her aisle joined into the main aisle, when she stopped dead, her ears straining against the musty library air. Ginny didn't quite fully understand why she had stopped until the whispering began again; and then she realized that the voices were not only slightly familiar to her, but that she knew who they belonged to. She inched closer until she was within a centimeter of the edge of the bookcase, still not daring to steal a glance at the two speakers lest they catch sight of her.

"…with that nosy bint stalking about," said a girl's voice, and Ginny's gut gave an odd lurch as she confirmed her suspicions: it was Pansy Parkinson. She was already contemplating leaving for the sole fact that she'd rather not insert herself in Pansy's private affairs, but the next voice that spoke rendered her quite frozen to the spot.

"Don't worry about it," said Draco's voice quietly. "I don't think she'll look back here, anyway. She's probably up at her desk, keeping watch over the door so that no one can come in; I think I heard her muttering about someone letting off a Dungbomb in the Astronomy section."

"Serves her right," Pansy sniffed. "Miserable old bat shouldn't be breathing down our necks in the first place."

At this, Ginny's brain ground into action. Obviously, Draco and Pansy were keen not to be found out, and Ginny knew from years of troublemaking that they had to be up to no good. Sure enough…

"I'm just glad we have some time alone now," Pansy went on. "Without that pair of idiots, Crabbe and Goyle, and the rest of the common room trying to spy on us."

_Spy on them doing what?_ Ginny wondered silently.

"Spy on us doing what?" Draco asked coolly, his voice making her heart give an odd jolt; his tone was suddenly quite different from Pansy's. "I don't think that there are any dark secrets that people can find out about us, is there?" Heart hammering in her chest, she strained her ears even harder upon hearing this sentence.

"How can you say that?" Pansy asked, and Ginny heard that her voice had changed from simpering to shocked. "After all we've been through…" Draco made a scoffing sound in his throat, and the table was quiet once more. Ginny was an instant from inching away from that spot and leaving the library to the whispering Slytherins (_They're obviously busy anyway, _Ginny thought sulkily), when Pansy spoke up again, and it was her next comment that made Ginny root herself once again to the floor, suddenly desperate to hear more.

"You've changed, you know. Since you've been tutoring that Weasley kid."

"What are you talking about," Draco said in the same, cool voice. "I haven't changed in the slightest, and if you weren't so busy eyeing my arse half the time you'd probably –"

"You're lying," Pansy interrupted, her voice accusing. "Don't think I haven't noticed anything, Draco; I'm not stupid, you know."

"Well, you had _me_ fooled," Ginny blurted out, something she immediately regretted. Barely a second later she had forced herself out of her hiding spot, knowing that it was useless to hide from them now, and trying hard to act as though she had simply walked in on the scene by coincidence. She stopped a few feet from the table that Draco and Pansy were sitting at, and eyed them carefully. Pansy looked horrified and furious; Draco looked cold and calculating, and flashed a sneer her way as she looked at him.

"Don't look so shocked," Ginny told Pansy in a calm voice. "You were gossiping so loudly back here that I probably could have found you with my eyes closed; I've been trying to get away from that awful Pince woman, but couldn't help supplying a truthful comment."

"And how long have you been eavesdropping on us from behind that bookcase?"

This came, not from Pansy, but to Ginny's surprise, from Draco. She glanced at him, and her mind reeled slightly before she answered. Hadn't she just heard him arguing with Pansy not moments before, and now _she_ was automatically the victim again?

"I haven't," Ginny answered, now speaking in a voice of forced evenness. "I just told you, I was walking by and you were so loud that –"

"Then, by all means, leave," Pansy said viciously, a remark which made Ginny's anger rise swiftly to its danger point.

"You know what, I don't think I will," Ginny snapped, dropping her bag and folding her arms in a resigned way. "I can be within fifty feet of you whenever I like, thanks, so don't you try to get me to bug off –"

"Ooh, big words, Weasley," Pansy retorted angrily, now on her feet as well. "But if you think that's going to save you, then you've got another thing –"

Before she could finish her sentence, however, Ginny's temper had reached boiling point. Her wand was out and she was at Pansy Parkinson's face before she knew exactly what had come over her.

"Oh, I really wouldn't," Ginny snarled. "I really wouldn't continue if I were you, Parkinson. Because if I were you, I'd probably have pissed myself by now, and if it's possible to hammer any sense at all through that unfathomably thick skull of yours then perhaps, you'll take my advice and _drop it and leave it alone_." Ginny's voice was dead serious, her wand steady, and a sort of mad glare was dancing in her eyes. Pansy was looking positively horrified of Ginny now. "I don't care if you stay here," Ginny continued. "It doesn't make any difference to me one way or the other; I'm just trying to finish my Potions homework. But if you do then I advise you, not to threaten me again or I promise you, you will sorely regret it."

Although she had been given a choice, Pansy wasted absolutely no time in snatching up her bag, giving Ginny one last furious, appalled glare, said in a dramatic whisper, "This isn't over, Weasley" before racing off into the bookshelves without a backwards glance.

By now, Ginny was shaking with anger. She replaced her wand inside her cloak pocket, and, calming down, sat down across from Draco, who had been watching the entire show from his seat, unmoving, and he still hadn't spoken a word since his initial accusation. If she had been any more alert to her surroundings, she would have thought this extremely strange. But after about five seconds of glaring at her, he spoke.

"What," he said finally. "The bloody hell. Is your problem."

It was as though a little switch that controlled Ginny's wild fury had clicked itself off at that moment, and Ginny bit her lip, for once feeling as though she was at a complete loss for words. What in the name of Merlin's Beard _was_ her problem? Why had she reacted so suddenly (and so viciously) when Pansy had spoken to her like that? Well, she hated Pansy, there was no doubt about that, and she had been stressed all day, but nothing that Pansy had ever said to her before had triggered such a violent reaction, either physically or verbally. And suddenly (though she wasn't quite sure why) she felt guilty to look Draco in the eye, and moved anxiously in her seat as she felt his piercing gray eyes continuing to glare at her.

"Fine," he said shortly, and Ginny looked up despite herself. "If you're not going to tell me, I'm not even going to ask any more. Crazy ass-bitch," he added in an undertone, apparently under the impression that Ginny wouldn't hear him; but at the moment, luck was not exactly on his side; for one brief and glorious moment, it was most of it on Ginny's, and she regained her composure with the rapidity the one usually associated with one of Hermione's homework mood swings.

"'Crazy ass-bitch'?" she repeated with a mock injured voice, putting a hand to her chest, her bout of shaking subsiding instantly. "That hurt, Draco, you've really done me some serious emotional damage now."

"Shut up," Draco snapped. "You can work on your Potions homework wherever you want, but I hope that for _your_ sake, I don't hear another word out of you for the rest of the day. Now turn to page two-hundred and ninety-seven, Weasley."

"Potions?" Ginny repeated, slightly confused, and Draco glared venomously at her.

"If you're going to act stupid, do it on your own time, and don't waste mine," he snarled. "Page two-hundred and ninety-seven. Before I change my mind."

_Well,_ Ginny thought, smiling nervously to herself as she dug through her bag in search of her book, _He's tutoring me _properly _again, I suppose. At least this means he's back to his normal Slytherin self now._

_I hope.  
_

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**AN:** Hope everyone liked the revised version of chapter six, because I had lots of fun rewriting bits of it (especially Ginny and Pansy's argument). Just so you know, chapter eight should be up very soon, I finished writing it not too long ago and I've gone through it a few times and got most of the mistakes.

>>

More old reviews! Gotta love 'em.

**louey31:** good to know that I promote interest and enthusiasm in my readers. thanks!  
**Phaerie:** yeah, I hate that too. Or that everyone just totally ignores you, all the time? Well, I hope you liked this chapter, there's more coming soon!  
**PoisonApples09:** Um, okay... there's another chapter coming soon, right when I'm sure of what to write!  
**krissygrl101:** glad you like it, I'll update soon!  
**Moonyk: **Strange is usually good in my book. I'm happy you think it looks promising, and I hope you review more!


	7. The TongueLashing of the Century

**Disclaimer:** As much fun as this chapter was to write, I only own the plot and not the characters. Except for Draco Malfoy. Rowling gave him to me (in my dreams). Just kidding...**  
**

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**Chapter 7: The Tongue-Lashing of the Century**

"Ginny? Is that you?"

Someone pushed away a stack of parchment and books and sat down next her; Ginny looked up and saw that it was Freda.

"'lo," Ginny said, her voice tired. It felt as though she had been working on that stupid essay for weeks, although in reality it had been about seven hours. Eight inches was a lot to ask of in a single night, but by now she could hardly expect differently from Snape. She didn't even want to think about her neglected Transfiguration assignment, which was to practice the Vanishing Spell, and she had been trying to ignore her groaning stomach for the past two hours.

"Why are you still down here?" Freda asked, frowning. "You're not still working on your homework, are you?"

"No, I'm juggling cats," Ginny said sarcastically. "What does it look like I'm doing to you?"

"There's no need to snap at me," Freda said, looking resentful. "What's got your knickers in a pinch this time?"

"Oh, you know, the usual," Ginny said hollowly.

"That old slimeball again, huh?" Freda said, grimacing. "Is that what all this is about?" She nodded at the parchment and books.

"Yeah, Myra let me borrow her notes," Ginny answered in the same low voice, knowing that she should be grateful. "Hell of a lot it's going to do me now."

"Look," Freda said reasonably. "I'll help you on this, if you like, just not tonight," she added as Ginny sat up hopefully. "Tomorrow morning. It's late, and you should get some sleep."

"Yeah, all right," Ginny replied heavily, finally giving in. She didn't know how much longer she would be able to stay awake, anyway, and it felt as though her eyelids were about to close that moment, she was so tired. Nevertheless, she gathered up her books before smiling at her friend.

"Thanks, Freda."

>>

The next morning was groggy and gray. Ginny was one of the first girls out of her dormitory, owing almost entirely to the fact that she had an essay to get on with, and headed down to the breakfast table several minutes later. Once there, she noticed that Myra had already arrived, and was spooning porridge into her mouth and reading the Daily Prophet. Ginny glanced up at the ceiling, which reflected the sky outside, and seemed also to be mirroring Ginny's mood; it pulsed gently with flashes of lightening behind slate-gray clouds, and occasionally the low, guttural grumble of thunder could be heard far away in the distance.

"Hey," Myra said, surveying her friend as she took her seat. "No sleep last night, huh?"

"What gave it away?" Ginny grumbled, letting her head drop onto the tabletop for support.

"I think it's the way your using your breakfast as a pillow," Myra answered, frowning slightly and pushing a plateful of eggs a safe distance away from Ginny's face. "You're waiting for Freda, right? She'll be a while, I think."

"Great," Ginny said dryly. "Dump some pumpkin juice on me if I'm still asleep when she gets here."

"I could help, too, you know," Myra said in a matter-of-fact voice, and when Ginny cast a sleepy, half-closed eye upon her, she added, "With your Potions work. Freda told me you needed a hand."

"Okay then," Ginny agreed, not knowing if she had the strength to focus on writing, but sat up and got out her parchment, quill, ink and book anyway. "Fire away."

The two girls (three once Freda had joined them) spent the rest of breakfast helping Ginny with her paper, and by the time the bell rang, Ginny had only to let the ink dry on her completed paper, and felt significantly more awake.

"You should be fine, Gin," Freda assured her friend as Ginny repacked her books into her bag. "Just don't worry about it."

"Thanks," Ginny said gratefully, for what felt like the umpteenth time. "I really owe you guys one."

"It's not a problem," Myra said. "You don't owe us anything, seeing as we're your friends." But as she had finished speaking, an unpleasant call sounded from somewhere within the moving crowd.

"Hey! Weasley!"

"You've got to be kidding me," Ginny muttered, shutting her eyes tight as footsteps could be heard making their way towards them. "Not today, _please_…"

"Sorry, did I ruin your morning?" Draco asked, and Ginny opened her eyes to see his smirking face looking down at her gloatingly. "Tough luck, Weasel-girl. You'd better have that essay done good-as-gold when Professor Snape looks it over, otherwise I daresay you won't enjoy yourself very much in the library tonight."

"Tonight!" Ginny raged her temper suddenly fiery and glared at him furiously. "I've got Quidditch practice!"

"I don't care," Draco replied easily. "That's you problem, not mine. And you had _better_ be there, Weasel-girl."

Ginny stared hatefully after Draco as he sauntered off, and then crammed her quill and ink back into her bag.

"Just don't listen to him, Gin," Freda said forcefully, also eyeing Draco with a sour look in her eye. "Don't let him provoke you."

"I'm not!" Ginny retorted hotly, stuffing her parchment furiously into her bag. "He's the one with asshole problem, not me, and I sure wish he'd just get over it –"

Ginny was still in mid-rant when she realized what was happening. She had reached for her newly-finished Potions essay, and had bumped the marmalade jar in the process. It tipped, the lid (having been poorly secured) flying off, and the orange stuff covered everything that was within about fifteen inches; the principal object being Ginny's essay. Her mouth still open (she had been about to continue speaking), Ginny gaped as Freda whipped out her wand and, with a slight flick, cleaned the entire mess up. Still staring at her parchment, Ginny finally reached out and picked it up. It was sticky and wrinkly. And it smelled of peaches.

"We'd better get to class," Myra said hurriedly, grabbing Ginny's arm and tugging on it. "Come on…"

"He'll never let me hand in my essay like this," Ginny said quietly as they rushed off down the corridor that led to the dungeons. "I'll be lucky if he doesn't refuse to even take it."

"Cheer up, Gin," Myra said, though she too looked worried.

"I don't see why I should," Ginny said flatly, and neither Freda nor Myra replied; Ginny suspected that they, too, doubted that Snape would accept an essay that smelled strongly of jelly.

They didn't have long to ponder the matter, however. In next to no time they had arrived outside Snape's classroom door, and joined the queue that had lined up to enter the dungeon.

"I'm screwed," Ginny muttered gloomily. "I'm totally screwed."

"There's always a chance that he forgets about it," Myra said encouragingly as the line began to move, and they entered the room and took their seats. "Right?" But Freda gave her a look and Myra went silent as Snape swept into the dungeon after them, closing the door with a loud bang behind him. He stopped before his desk and surveyed them all piercingly before speaking.

"Pass last night's homework forward," was all that he needed to say to set the entire class to work, moving as quietly and quickly as physically possibly. Ginny, who was the only person to have her essay out already, felt horribly out of place in the room, and she felt a sick swoop in her stomach as Snape glared particularly at her before strutting to the other side of the room and collecting the essays as they came forward. Ginny passed hers up as well, feeling slight relief creep back into her system; she hadn't had to hand her essay in directly to Snape after all. When all of the essays had been passed in, Snape returned his attention to the class at large once more.

"Today you will be concocting a potion using ingredients whose definitions and uses you presumably copied down last night." At this he sneered unpleasantly around the room, apparently wishing to make any students guilty of unfinished essays squirm, before continuing. "I want to see Potions books in front of every last one of you and open to the correct page within ten seconds. The necessary equipment, which you will need after reviewing the formula, will be in the cupboard. Begin by turning to the first page in chapter eight."

The rustling of pages commenced immediately after Snape had given the order, and the sound continued for several moments after he had sat down. One by one, they rose and collected their things from the supply cabinet, and, after stealing a rather fretful glance at the Potions Master, returned quickly to their seats. They didn't really have anything to worry about, however; while it was obvious that Snape was in "one of his moods" again (Ginny had been wondering vaguely whether male PMS had anything to do with it), he was obviously brooding on whatever was irking him so badly and seemed to be taking it out on their essays at the moment instead.

Ginny had very little emotion to spare on this, however. She wasted no time at all in reading through all of the instructions before getting her supplies and taking her seat again. As much as she despised Snape, let alone the subject of Potions, she couldn't help wanting to make up for the incident with the marmalade, and so carefully reread the text before selecting her first ingredients and setting to work.

>>

Ten minutes before the end of the class, Ginny drew the back of her hand across her sweaty brow, tired but pleased overall. She had managed to bring her potion to a boil before adding the last ingredient, a pinch of sneezewort, and according to the textbook, it was to sit for only a minute before being ladled into a vial for storage overnight. Satisfied, Ginny sat down and peered into the cauldron again, and couldn't suppress a satisfied grin. It's deep emerald colouration even seemed to match Myra's potion, which, as Freda pointed out, is something to be proud of.

"Not bad," Myra commented, smiling as she, too, inspected the contents of the cauldron; Myra, of course, had been finished long before Ginny. "I think you've just about got it, Ginny. Now all you have to do is put a sample of it in one of the vials, and you're done."

"I know," Ginny said, feeling, for once in the history of her Potions' class experience, rather cheerful as she reached for the ladle and an empty vial. Two seats over, Freda beamed at her.

"You're done, Gin? Excellent, then you can help me with mine… I don't get it, but I guess it turned out sort of piss-yellow instead of green…"

"Don't you bother Ginny, she's had a tough time at this," Myra said, bristling slightly as Ginny laid her filled vial aside. "Here, don't be silly, I'll help you with that… and put that knife down, don't go waving it around like that…"

"Ginny Weasley."

His voice rang out, cold and harsh in the stone room, and Ginny sat bolt upright, unable to believe it but sure that her ears had not deceived her. At that same moment, she somehow felt that every head in that room had momentarily swiveled and blinked at her, but then she looked again and was sure that she must have been mistaken.

"I said, _Weasley_," Snape repeated in a slightly louder voice, and this time Ginny stood and made her way to the front of the classroom, wondering, with the sick feeling in her stomach returning, how badly she was going to be punished for her essay. She stopped directly before his desk, surprised that her feet had carried her there so fast, and then, with some difficulty (for she had been trying to concentrate hard on the tips of her shoes), she took her gaze from her feet and set it on Snape. He was looking directly at her.

"So nice of you to join me, Weasley," he said sardonically. "I was wondering if it was possible to tear you away from that cauldron of yours. Now sit." He pointed with one long, sallow finger at the uncomfortable spindly chair positioned in front of his desk, and Ginny sat as she had, several Mondays ago, her mind racing now as much as it had then.

"I wonder, Weasley," Snape asked softly, and Ginny, who had been distracted, quickly refocused on him, "Do you normally eat and do your homework during the same time frame?"

The sudden change from Potions' classes to food struck Ginny so hard, that for a moment, she just gaped at him. A switch in her brain clicked on at the same time that Snape began speaking again.

"It's not that difficult a question, Weasley," Snape said in the same soft voice, only this time she could hear a vexing tone staining his words, and a cruel smirk was teasing the corners of his mouth. "Though, for you I could easily be mistaken. Do you or do you not eat and write out your essays at the same time?"

"Well, today I did," Ginny burst out, and, unable to control herself, blundered on, "But, Professor –"

"Then, for future reference, I suggest that you keep your food in your mouth rather than on your papers," Snape said, his droning voice overriding hers. His smirk had vanished, and he was now definitely irritated as he slid Ginny's essay back towards her. It seemed that he had refused to grade it, and Ginny could sort of see why. The parchment appeared to be less sticky than it had been, but was now thin and crackly, and her handwriting had blurred slightly on it. _But,_ she thought, feeling slightly desperate, _you can still read it, so there really shouldn't be any –_

"And now I ask my second question," Snape continued, interrupting her thoughts so that Ginny was forced to look at him, hating every feature on his pale, sneering face. "of whether you fully intend on repeatedly shaming your own name with these treacherous assignments –" at this Snape scratched a violent 'D' across Ginny's essay, "– or whether you are actually such a dim-witted girl that you can manage no better, lest your small mind exhaust itself in the process; if, in fact, there _is_ anything within that thick skull of yours that's helping to keep your ears apart…"

"Shut up."

This statement, although barely uttered above a mutter, was as effective as though she had shouted it; several people near Snape's desk looked up at her in alarm, even in panic as they glanced between her and Snape. But Ginny didn't notice. She hadn't jumped to her feet in a sudden burst of anger, or, in fact, given any other sign of intense fury; yet she was more angry than she could ever remember being at anyone in her entire life. She could tell that Snape was in an equal, if not greater temper, though his face was as smooth and expressionless as the surface of a mirror.

"What did you say to me, Miss Weasley?"

"I told you to shut up," Ginny repeated in a clear voice. She had been staring at Snape the entire time, and still did not break her gaze from his cold, black eyes. He was glaring at her, but she glared right back, returning his own murderous gaze with one of her own. Finally he spoke.

"Miss Weasley," Snape said, in what was quite possibly his softest, most dangerous voice he had ever used on a student; Ginny refused the urge to blink. "I don't care what you think of my teaching skills, but you will not talk back to me, whether you are in my class or outside of it. I will not tolerate this behaviour and for your sake it will cease _immediately_. Fifty points from Gryffindor and a week of detention, have I have I made myself very clear?"

Now at least half of the class was staring at them, Ginny could see it in the way that Snape's eyes occasionally flickered to different points in the room, but he appeared to be oddly uncaring about it for some reason. He seemed to be waiting for his answer (and for the impact of his last statement to sink in), but Ginny continued to stare at him in complete loathing, not moving an inch until at last Snape spoke again.

"I said," Snape whispered, his brow furrowing and his dark eyes narrowing, "_Do I make myself very clear, Miss Weasley?_"

"Oh, yes, Professor," Ginny answered at last. Her voice was no longer quiet and she had used a tone that most would never even dream of trying on Snape, especially when he was giving her a glare that, four years ago, could easily have made her wet herself on the spot. Now, however, she had gotten to her feet, her fear swallowed by the fury of his injustice towards her. Snape remained sitting, but continued to watch her closely and maintained glaring all the while.

"It's very clear to me," Ginny went on in a steady voice. Her tone was not raised above normal speaking volume, but somehow she had called every eye in the room to focus on her and Snape. "It's clear that you obviously couldn't give a damn about my education, and that you'd really rather make me suffer in this class instead of attempting to teach me a bloody thing. But I knew that already," she added, and before Snape could interrupt her she plunged on once more.

"I know that you're just a foul git that couldn't care less what happens to me, one way or another. But what _really_ pisses me off that no matter what I've done, it's always wrong and it's always stupid and it _always_ gives you a wide open opportunity to rant your arse off at me about whatever the hell you please! Well," Ginny snarled at last, at this point very nearly yelling and feeling very warm indeed, despite the fact that she was below ground level in a cold, damp dungeon. "I really couldn't give more than a rat's ass about _your_ opinion of me now, _Professor_. Go ahead. Make my day."

Snape was now standing, stock still, his face showing every sign of fury and contempt towards Ginny, who could swear she felt waves of heat radiating from him and hitting her face. The room churned in a dead, ringing silence for the longest ten seconds that Ginny had ever endured.

"Seventy-five points from Gryffindor," Snape said at last, his words coming in a soft, poisonous hiss. He looked so incensed that Ginny rather appreciated the fact that he could still speak coherently. "And three weeks of detention."

Ginny smirked.

"Only three weeks?" she said in a dispassionate voice. "You're losing your touch, Snape."

"One-hundred more points from Gryffindor," Snape snarled, and at last seemed to have lost all control over himself: his eyes were popping alarmingly, and his pale lips were curling into a snarl that was remarkably similar to that of a wolverine's. "And six more weeks of detention. Now get out of this classroom, or so help me Weasley, I will curse you so badly that you'll wish I had added another five months onto your sentence. Rest assured that I will report this to the Headmaster. _Now get out_!"

"Fine," Ginny replied easily, and by some miracle, unbeknownst even to her, there was still an expression of utmost indifferent affixed upon her face. "You couldn't pay me a million galleons to stay here another _second_ listening to your guff, anyway. Good day, Professor."

And with that, Ginny strode to the back of the classroom, swept up her books and bag with one quick movement, and was out the door a moment later.

The youngest Weasley had just given Severus Snape the tongue-lashing of the century. Furthermore she had managed to leave the room alive, intact, and without any mark or jinx upon her.

It would be all over the school in less than two hours.

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**AN:** Finally done with rewriting all of the chapters. I hope you all have liked the changes, I think the story works better this way, but please review to let me know what you think. 

Here are the last reviews from ages ago. I'm posting the new ones in chapter eight, which will be up very soon.**  
**

**louey31:** no kidding, I hate Pansy. Wish she'd go away. The little slut. (scowls)  
**Moonyk:** yay Ginny kicks ass with my reviewers! Right on!  
**Sacred Dust:** You are awesome. With an uppercase 'A'. I really hope you liked this chapter!  
**Heather:** thanks for the review :-)  
**Ireboricua:** I hope you liked this chapter!


	8. Detention and Draco

**Disclaimer:** Let me check... Nope. Harry Potter does not belong to me.

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**Chapter 8: Detention and Draco**

Ginny's shouting match with Snape, however satisfying it had been initially, quickly made Ginny realize that she had hardly been busier during her entire career at Hogwarts than she was directly afterwards. Not only was she required to attend Draco's study sessions, but now detentions with Snape, which she was constantly having to rush off to (and would be, she reminded herself gloomily, for the next nine weeks or so) every night after dinner. This was extremely inconvenient, seeing as Ginny had quite forgotten about the upcoming Quidditch match that would take place next Saturday. Harry, however, was quick to remind her in the entrance hall that evening as she made her way to dinner.

"Hey! Ginny!" he shouted over the tumult of noise from students swarming around them. Ginny looked over at the mention of her name, and saw Harry hurrying over to her, colliding with several first years on the way over. Before she had time to open her mouth for a reply, he was standing next to her, glowering.

"Why've you got yourself detention with Snape for the next two months?" Harry said furiously, and several onlookers giggled and pointed. Ginny ignored them.

"He had it coming to him," she said in a stiff, automatic voice.

"That's your great excuse?" Harry asked, letting out a derisive laugh. "Well, then, I can't wait to hear the one you'll give the rest of the team when you tell them you're not going to be playing on Saturday."

"They'll already know by now, along with the rest of the school," Ginny snapped, losing her temper. As if Harry could possibly be suggesting that _he_ wouldn't have done the exact same thing, had he been in her place? "And anyway, that's still more than a week away, that's plenty of time to try out a new Chaser…"

"That's not the point," Harry retorted, looking increasingly annoyed. "The point is that you're a great Chaser, and we can't afford to lose you from the team. Even we win this game, our next one will probably be in November, and you'll still be in detention." He glared at her. "You're not doing any favours for yourself or us, getting thrown in detention for the next two and a half months, and we need you as Chaser."

"Yeah, well," Ginny said, now angry not only at Harry but at herself. "Like I said. He had it coming to him."

Harry sighed, and ran a hand distractedly through his already messy black hair. A moment later he dropped his Quidditch Captain front with a slight grin.

"So," he asked casually. "Did it feel good?"

Ginny allowed herself a slightly guilty yet satisfied smirk.

"Oh, yes. Definitely worth it."

>>

Harry's offhand congratulations was one of many Ginny received over the next few days. It seemed as though word of Snape's telling-off had spread like dragon pox all over the school in the brief space of a couple hours, and people from Gryffindor, as well as Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, all stopped her periodically in the hallways to give her a slap on the back or a powerful hand shake. The Slytherins, on the other hand, had rarely been so hostile. They seemed to have taken it as a personal offense that a Gryffindor girl would dare talk back to their Head of House, and therefore had been attempting to jinx her at every turn, though their efforts had so far been in vain. Ginny's Bat Bogey Hex hit more than one sneaky Slytherin as they tried to catch her off guard, along with a vast array of other spells and curses, and they soon gave up. Even so, Ginny had taken to walking the corridors with two or three people (usually with Freda and Myra), and though the hatred was almost a physical barrier between Ginny and the whole of Slytherin house, there were no further attempts to take her by surprise.

However, it was not the ever-present possibility of an ambush that worried Ginny the following day (a sunny but crisp Tuesday). It was the inevitable (and undoubtedly excruciating) lecture that she was positive awaited her that evening in the library, where she would meet Draco for the first time since the incident with Snape. Surely Draco, as Snape's favourite student, would be furious with her for even thinking of contradicting the Potions Master? And after what was sure to be a horrific study lesson, she was immediately off to serve detention with Snape himself, something she would trade for one straight week of Draco's tutoring in a heartbeat. Ginny didn't even want to think about how terrible detention would be for one night, let alone nine straight weeks, and she felt even worse at the constant, stabbing reminder that it was her own fault. Therefore, the repeated congratulatory handshakes that met her on her way to classes worked only to deplete her last ounce of cheerfulness.

She felt even worse, if possible, as the day progressed, and had hardly ever been less hungry at dinner as she was that night. Perhaps this was lucky, as Ginny had a full days' worth of homework to get through before it was off to meet one detestable Slytherin after another.

Freda and Myra sat down on either side of her, and to Ginny's immense relief, did not speak to her about detention nor of Snape, and instead, furthering Ginny's gratitude towards the both of them, helped her finish several assignments before she was forced to put away her things and slouch moodily out of the great hall. Her feet knew the way to the library, and she let them carry her to it, her mind preoccupied with homework and detention.

The only good thing that Ginny could find that had come out of the entire arrangement, was that her time in the library with Draco had been cut back to one hour of torture, before she was free to pack up and… begin her three-month sentence to a slimy hellhole. It was indeed a grim thought, but it was this that managed to keep Ginny's spirits up (however slightly) at the prospect of spending less time with a tutor that didn't spend so much time teaching Ginny as he did with his head stuck up his own –

Ginny seemed to have frozen in mid-thought. Her body hadn't quite figured out why, but a moment later she flung herself into a conveniently-located niche which held a pedestal and a bust of Athena, made certain she was completely hidden, and listened intently.

There was a high-pitched tittering noise, a girly giggle issuing from nearby. Cautiously, Ginny peered out of the niche, and noticed a classroom door ajar, from whence the noises came. A moment later, a groan, a soft gasp, and a voice sounded off, drifting in a whisper from the open door.

"Wait."

Ginny pulled her head sharply back into the shadows as tip-toeing footsteps sounded, and stopped close by. It was clear that someone was listening and watching through the crack in the door for an intruder, and, upon seeing nothing, the footsteps returned into the room once more. The door still stood ajar, but Ginny still had to strain her ears to catch what was being said.

"Thought I heard something."

"Don't worry."

Silence pressed down between Ginny and the speakers, cutting them apart, and Ginny inched carefully out from behind the pedestal, wondering if she could slip past the door without attracting the attention of whoever was inside. The library was only a corridor away, but the door had been pushed open slightly wider as one of the people had checked for passersby, and Ginny was not entirely sure she would be able to walk past unnoticed. Still debating the matter, she brought herself to attention when she heard a female voice, which she identified as being the voice that had giggled, speak in a murmur.

"Draco, love, are you quite alright?"

"Fine."

"You don't sound fine."

"Well, I am."

Though Ginny's heart was beating almost loudly enough to restrict her hearing, she could tell, somehow, that the girl's voice did not belong to Pansy Parkinson. A shudder of relief passed over her, though she knew not why. Ignoring this, she returned to eavesdropping, now too interested to walk away.

"Well, you don't sound like it," the girl's voice said, now with an air of slight irritation and exasperation. "Come on, tell me what's wrong."

"Nothing's wrong," Draco replied, though in a flat, forced voice that did not convince Ginny nor, apparently, the girl, for next she said, sounding rather cold, "If you'd just talk to somebody for once in your life, you might not feel so bad about – about – whatever's wrong."

"Nothing's wrong," Draco repeated, now with a hint of irritation.

"Well," the girl said in a vehement whisper, "Perhaps if you didn't act as though you've got a stick up your arse all the time, you'd actually have someone to talk to, like a real person. I'm beginning to see why Pansy broke up with –"

"She did not break up with me!" Draco hissed back, sounding fierce. "That silly _slut_ was just like everybody else I've ever been with. Prying, preaching, poking around in my business, as though she had every right to know what I was –"

There was a loud crack, and though Ginny could not see inside the room, she felt quite sure that Draco had just been slapped hard in the face.

"Don't you _dare_ insult my friend!" the girl said, trying to keep her voice low but sounding increasingly hysterical. "It's just like she said, trying to date you, you never talked her and you were never –"

"So you enjoy talking about me behind my back, do you?" Draco growled. "Typical woman! Been having a laugh about me, have you, with that sulky bitch, obviously taking a leaf from her book…"

"And it's no wonder nobody can stand you! You stupid, stuck-up, pretty-boy bas –"

"Well if you don't like it, then GET OUT!"

With every disregard to their previously whispered conversation, Draco bellowed this last sentence at the top of his lungs, and Ginny managed to fall back into her niche just as the classroom door was flung open and a figure barreled past, the sleeves of her robes covering her face, which Ginny could see, through a gap in the fabric, was tear-streaked and bright pink. Acting almost automatically, Ginny emerged from behind the pedestal as the girl flung herself around a corner and out of sight, and waited until she heard Draco's footsteps at the classroom door before starting forward.

"Oh," she said in well-feigned surprise, and coming to a stop again. "Hi."

Draco might have been expecting many things upon reentering the corridor, but running into Ginny Weasley had clearly not been one of them. His hair was distinctly ruffled, and his cloak only just hid a clearly disheveled Slytherin uniform underneath its folds. Recovering slightly, he managed a curt "Hi".

Both of them stood, unmoving, in the corridor. Not eager to give away the fact that she had overheard the fight, Ginny, cleared her throat and said, "Well, let's get on with it, then."

Draco nodded, and they set off down the corridor together. Though they only walked for a short distance, Ginny felt extremely strange walking next to Malfoy; usually it was impossible for them to be within ten feet of each other without bickering. Now, though, there was uncomfortable tension between them, and, still determined not to give herself away, Ginny spoke again, this time in a sarcastic voice, "Snake got your tongue, Draco? Or have you just forgotten to hurl insults at me every five seconds?"

"Unlike you, Weasley," he spat, as though waiting for this question. "I have problems that are actually worth complaining about, and I, unlike you, have at least _some_ sense of self-restraint." A cruel smirk pulled at the corners of his lips.

"Yeah, but I, unlike you, am not a prat," Ginny retorted coolly, her tone threatening him to challenge her. He did not disappoint.

"Oh, aren't you?" Draco asked sardonically, raising his eyebrows as he looked at her, still smirking. "I would've thought getting three months of detention for being a show-offy twit would have sufficed."

"As if Snape didn't deserve it," Ginny said with a scornful laugh. "If you want any evidence of a prat, Draco, you've obviously forgotten about him."

Strangely enough, Draco didn't seem to have a retort for this comment. He looked at Ginny as they walked through the library doors, something almost quizzical in his expression.

"Oh, don't look at me like that," Ginny snapped, but all the same lowered her voice as Madam Pince glared at them furiously from behind her desk. "I don't care what you say, Snape had it coming to him, and he deserved everything I had to say to him."

"No," Draco said as they sat at an empty table, obscured by a tall bookcase, so that they would be out of sight of the librarian's desk. "I just realized, that you are the single most insane human being I've ever met in my life."

This sudden and unexpected proclamation took Ginny by complete surprise. If she hadn't known any better, she would have thought that right then and there, that Draco Malfoy had almost paid her a compliment. After a moment of quick thinking, she stammered, "Oh, am I? And what do you mean by that, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Exactly that," Draco said, glaring at her as though she was taunting him. "I have never known anybody so unbelievably _stupid_ as to take on Snape in a bad mood. And you, Weasley, got away without so much as a curse or hex, just a hell of a lot of detentions. You are _insane_." He took out his Potions textbook, and, catching her eye, he added angrily, "It's not a compliment, Weasley, so stop looking so damn pleased with yourself. And will you get out your book and turn to chapter two, you are wasting time."

On any other day, Ginny might have made a rude comment about how much time Draco had managed to waste already with his sordid love affairs with various girls, but she took these few moments to instead marvel at the fact that Draco had just paid her the closest thing to a compliment that she had ever heard from him in her entire life, seeing as it was certainly the nicest thing she had ever heard pass through his lips. And the fact of being insane, well, that was no real surprise to Ginny anyway. She knew that growing up with five older brothers had done nothing for her in that regard, and being constantly bullied by Snape and Draco hadn't been helping. She was lucky, really, that she wasn't stark raving mad by now, and simply being labeled as "insane" (by Draco, no less) was even more flattery than that stubborn Slytherin would ever like to know. So, feeling quite thrilled with herself, Ginny pulled out her textbook, flipped to the appropriate page, and let an expression blissful ignorance pass over her as she blatantly ignored every word of the text that Draco recited. She came to only when Draco began telling her off, furious that she had let her attention waver during his lecture, until eventually both of them were evicted from the library by an apoplectic Madam Pince, who steered them roughly through the doors, and slammed them closed in their faces.

"Fantastic," Ginny said, turning and walking away. "What a great waste of time. Thanks for nothing, you git."

"Well, maybe it wouldn't have been such a massive waste of time if you'd actually listened to a word I said," Draco snapped, following her, eyes glinting malevolently. "Don't forget, Weasley, I get to tell Snape everything that happens during these little get-togethers, so just watch your mouth and at least try to get a passing grade, for once, if that's even possible for you…"

"Well, maybe if you didn't act like you've got a stick up your arse all the time, though I'm sure that would be an unheard of development for someone like you!" Ginny said angrily, and she saw Draco look at her sharply. Suddenly Ginny realized why these first words had come to her: it was because she had heard them not long ago during the row between Draco and his girlfriend. Before Draco could reply, however, Freda Scott rounded the corner up ahead, spotted Ginny, and called to her.

"Hey, glad I caught you," she said, panting. "I've got a message from you. It's from Snape." Freda straightened up, and, taking notice of Draco, said in a cool voice, "I think you can leave, Malfoy, as it's nothing that concerns you."

"I don't care," Ginny said, checking her watch. "I'm nearly late for detention as it is."

"Fine. Well… Snape said, that tonight you'll be sorting through his private stores by hand. And he also said that you won't be needing your dragon hide gloves, because there shouldn't be anything _too_ dangerous in there."

"Oh. Okay," Ginny said glumly, and she could feel Draco smirking in satisfaction next to her. "Thanks a lot, Freda." And without further ado she hurried off down the corridor, knowing (although she couldn't see him) that Draco was still standing and smirking smugly all over his pale, pointed face.

* * *

**AN:** I'm so happy to be updating again after so long! Especially because I hadn't been inspired to write an eighth chapter after so long, I was afraid I'd lose the thread of the story. Anyway, please review, I'm excited to know what everyone will think about this chapter! 

Also, if you haven't read the story in a while, it would probably be worth it to reread it from chapter one... not only to refresh your memory, but also because I've rewritten every chapter up 'till now, and I'd like some feedback on those, as well.

Anyway, now for what I've wanted to do since I came back... reply to reviews.

**louey31:** I couldn't agree more, even though this review was posted at the beginning of last year. I hope you're sticking around to read some more!  
**Moonyk:** I've totally felt like that before, like you're going to explode and then BOOM it all lands in Snape's face.  
**moony's number 1:** Thanks for that! I had lots of fun writing out Ginny's craziness explosion at Snape.  
**BrknLight:** Thanks for the support, I hope you read and liked this chapter, too.  
**QueenThaylet12990:** I'm glad you like the story so much!  
**me:** Don't worry, I'm waiting for the perfect opportunity for Draco to betray his cold facade and confess... also, congratulations for being my first reviewer for 2007! You get a cookie. (Also, I would have added the asterisk before "me", but the won't let me. Booo.)  
**Chat-Chan:** Thanks for the short (but lovely) review!  
**Fireice2772:** I'll try my hardest to finish it, but thanks for supporting me either way!

Keep reviewing, and keep an eye out for chapter nine!


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